


Love Wins

by mngirl20



Category: Glee
Genre: Boys In Love, Hate Crimes, Hate Speech, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Law Enforcement, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mystery, Soulmates, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 92,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25807957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mngirl20/pseuds/mngirl20
Summary: Kurt and Blaine have acclimated to a life amidst the excitement of New York City. They are loving life and loving NYADA. One morning, they hear a story on the news about a gang that has moved into their neighborhood. This group is targeting the LGBTQI+ community in the form of very gruesome hate crimes. Kurt and Blaine promise to protect each other if they were to encounter this gang and continue to go about their lives. They refuse to be intimidated by such hate. Little do they know, their strength and commitment to protect each other will soon be tested.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 21
Kudos: 39





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't hate me! There are some very graphic and hateful things said and done to the main characters in this story. Fanfiction writers will understand the "torturing your favorite characters" thing, but for those who don't, the point is to show their love triumphing over evil. I know! I can just see people reading that and rolling their eyes. Amidst our current divisive world, I thought it fitting to write a story that portrays many people coming together to "beat the bad guys." And who better to do that than our favorite Glee couple?  
> NOTE: The perpetrators of the crimes in this story are from Germany and speak the language with each other. I used Google Translate, Duolingo and a few other sites to look for the best way to say certain things. If you are reading this, you speak German and you know of a better way to say something or see that I have made a language error, PLEASE TELL ME! I want it to be accurate! Also, I am in NO WAY trying to hate on Germans by making them the "bad guys." The characters in this story are living by VERY ARCHAIC ideals and I am in NO WAY saying that all of Germany subscribes to them. Thank you for coming to my TED TALK.

Kurt could feel Blaine’s warmth against him. It was the same warmth that had made him feel so safe at Dalton. The same warmth that protected him from the ironic homophobia of Korofsky in their earlier years at McKinley. This thing, so simple and figurative, was a source of strength and comfort to Kurt. It was one manifestation of their undying love for each other. 

Blaine’s shoulders were cradled gently in the crook of his arm, but it wasn’t the kind of cradling that was often paired with affection. At this moment, the feel of his body close to his own was not one of comfort, but of fear.

Kurt glanced upon his lover’s face. Usually it was full of joy, hope, and understanding. These emotions beamed from his gorgeous honey-colored eyes regularly. However, they did not exude joy in this very moment. At this moment his eyes were hidden behind shades of red, blue and purple, sending messages of confusion and searching for answers that Kurt could not give.

Kurt could not bring himself to look anywhere else at this point. He was too consumed by fear and guilt to survey the horrific scene before him. He just continued to look into Blaine’s scared and pained eyes. His breath was not steady and relaxed as it often was. It now came in the form of ragged, painful gasps. Those honey-colored orbs widened ever so often to express his overwhelming terror. 

Kurt wanted so much to reassure Blaine. He wanted to tell him that everything would be okay and this was all a bad dream. He wanted to tell Blaine that all he had to do was close his eyes and when he opened them again, he would be awake in bed next to him like nothing had ever happened. Oh, God, if only they could turn back time. 

Kurt’s eyes began to examine the situation further, as his gaze followed the buttons from Blaine’s open collar to the middle of his chest. Normally his eyes would be met with the image of carefully pressed garments, neatly arranged to complement this man’s figure. The light blue button down shirt had been deliberately chosen that morning because Blaine knew Kurt loved it. However, he hadn’t anticipated that, hours after putting it on, the blue material would be stained in the crimson hue of his own blood.


	2. You Make Me Feel So Young

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit long, and I apologize for that! I wanted to give everyone a feel for the boys' routine. This will set up a lot for things to come.
> 
> *blut und ehre = blood and honor 
> 
> die Stärke= strength

THREE WEEKS EARLIER

Someone was screaming in Blaine’s ear. Normally he would have been eager to rush to their aid, but this time it was just annoying. The scream came in equally spaced bursts, acting like a jackhammer against the silence of the early morning. As his awareness sharpened, he realized that it was, in fact, his cell phone alarm shrieking from the bedside table. 

With a lazy arm, he reached toward the rumbling phone to silence the cacophony and then slumped back into the bed. He gently moved his cheek to lay on Kurt’s chest.

“You’d think this ‘getting up early’ thing would get easier.” Blaine mumbled. Kurt smirked and let out a hum of a laugh. He turned his body slowly to his right side, requiring Blaine to shift his position back to his pillow. When they were face to face, their noses almost touching, Kurt lovingly rested his hand on Blaine’s cheek. 

“You saying you want to give up on our nighttime fun?” his eyebrow rose, as he studied Blaine’s reaction. Blaine’s eyes widened and he jokingly gasped,

“Give up something like that? What blasphemy!” 

After a collective chuckle, they leaned in and lightly brushed their lips together. This wasn’t enough for Blaine. When they pulled away, his eyes looked longingly at his lover’s lips. Kurt took the hint and leaned in again. This kiss was much more forceful. Kurt and Blaine poured their love and passion for each other into it, massaging their tongues together. Blaine adored his touch. He loved the taste of him and his desire to continue was near insatiable. To his dismay, Kurt pulled away abruptly,

“Oh, Lord, I can’t let you kiss me like that. I have morning breath. So gross.” He said, covering his mouth as if to protect Blaine from the smell. Blaine leaned in closer to him, pressing his forehead against Kurt’s,

“I love you, morning breath and all.” With a playful chuckle, Kurt placed one more soft kiss on his lover’s lips and then pulled the covers off of himself. 

Blaine slouched against the pillows as if to pout. He kept his hand around Kurt’s wrist until he had walked far enough from the bed to pull it away. With a childish, yet playful, huff he stood from the bed and began to tidy up the sheets.

“Fine, deprive your fiancé of his morning pleasure.” Kurt turned back and gave him a flirtatious look. He sneaked back onto the bed, kneeling on top of the covers with his face close to Blaine’s. 

“This fiancé stinks like hell and desperately needs a shower. So, get your booty up, you sexy motherfucker so I can help you make the bed.”

Blaine furrowed his eyebrows playfully and cooed. With a smile he returned the affection of his lover and leaned in until their noses touched,

“I love it when you order me around.” Blaine got to his feet after a pillow was launched in his direction. With Kurt’s help he began to pull the sheets neatly toward the head of the bed. Kurt stood up straight and rigidly grabbed for the bedspread that was crumpled on the floor. Feigning the robotic stature of a disgruntled drill sergeant he tossed it at Blaine,

“Get to it, subordinate.” 

With a chuckle, they both performed the same action with the bedspread removing all wrinkles from its surface. Then, like a choreographed dance, they each selected throw pillows from the floor and placed all of them in their assigned spots. They had been doing this ritually since Blaine had moved to New York from Lima. There was never a question whether he would be joining Kurt at the Bushwick apartment, and he fit into the morning routine that Kurt had established as if he had always been there. Wake up, make the bed, select an outfit, one in the shower while the other has breakfast, reconvene and begin the journey to class. Sometimes Blaine wondered if he and his fiancé shared synapses. 

Kurt, being the anticipatory person that he was, had already started walking toward the bathroom with the outfit he had set aside the night before. He turned to Blaine before closing the door with a playful quip,

“I will try to save you some hot water. It depends how nice I am feeling.” With a wink and a friendly scoff from his lover, Kurt disappeared into the bathroom. 

“Oh, you saucy bitch!” Blaine called after him only to be answered with a hearty guffaw. 

As he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, Blaine started making a mental list of all the things he had to dig out of the cupboards and refrigerator in order to construct a modicum of a breakfast for the duo. His stomach was craving blueberry pancakes, but his mind was feeling lazy and unwilling to put in the effort to make them. There was also the fact that his diet had changed since moving to New York. When it came to the variety of meal selections, Lima paled in comparison. Even the short distance between his front door to the end of the next block had more to choose from than the entirety of Lima. The plethora of choices was both a blessing and a curse. What he lacked after settling into the Bushwick neighborhood was self control, and it led to a less than desirable number on the bathroom scale. To anyone who didn’t know him, Blaine was in no way overweight. In fact he was the opposite with a well toned physique that many would envy. Blaine’s opinion of himself, however, would definitely be less kind. This made his mind lean more toward the healthier meal options like oatmeal and fruit. 

After a moment’s contemplation, mostly caving to his lazy mind, Blaine gathered two bowls, spoons and glasses from the cupboards and placed them on the table. As he filled the teapot with water at the sink, he looked out the window, taking in the early morning sunlight. It almost succeeded in waking him up. A nice piping cup of coffee would have to do the rest. 

He placed the now full teapot on the burner and, turning the knob, watched the flame dance to life. As the pot began to heat up, Blaine collected an assortment of fruit and cream from the refrigerator and placed them on the table next to the bowls. Standing on his tiptoes, he opened the pantry above the stove and pulled out the tub of oats that called to him. The small jar of honey sat next to it. After pulling it from the shelf too, he placed them next to the collection of breakfast ingredients he had already assembled. 

With a long and deep yawn, he sauntered over to the television at the other end of the apartment and set it to the local news station, KLBA. The animated faces of news anchors Joe Walker and Lauren Lopez graced the screen as they delivered the top stories. Blaine stood and watched with his arms folded, still trying desperately to shake the fatigue from his body. 

“Hey, Kenny, what should we be expecting on the weather front today? Give us some good news, why don’t you?” Lauren said with a snicker. The screen cut to Kenny O’Sullivan, the local chief meteorologist who often donned a dorky tie for his delivery of the forecast. Today it appeared to have a comic book theme with the black material decorated in all kinds of onomatopoeia in bright yellows, reds, greens and blues. Each word was framed in its own cartoonish speech bubble. Some had circles, some looked like punch outs and others were adorned with cheerful little clouds. Kenny smirked at the camera and pointed at it, as if trying to get the viewer’s attention,

“Oh, boy, do I have good news for you. On this lovely September morning you can expect clear skies and a high of 70 degrees. No storms appear on the horizon, so I would highly recommend that you take advantage of this lovely weather and head outside sometime. As for the rest of the week…”

Blaine’s attention was brought back to the teapot as it sang from the stove-top. He shuffled over to the kitchen and quickly deposited some oats into his bowl from the large tub. Carefully removing the pot from the stove, but leaving the flame on, he carried it over to the table and slowly poured some of the boiling water over the oats. He breathed in the earthy scent as they cooked in the hot liquid. As he placed the pot back on the stove and turned the flame to low, he heard the bathroom door open. Kurt emerged among a cloud of steam with his bathrobe tied snugly at his waist. 

“That was fast,” Blaine said as he raised his eyebrows. Kurt nodded,

“I’m more hungry than I am dirty.” he countered. Blaine let out a playful snort,

“That, my love, is up for debate.” 

Blaine took a seat in front of the bowl of oatmeal and began to dress it up to his liking. After adding a healthy variety of blueberries, strawberries and some honey, he took in the delicious aroma through his nostrils. After burying his spoon in and lifting to his lips, he met eyes with Kurt, who appeared as if he was stifling a laugh.

“What?” he asked, defensively. 

“Are you eating breakfast or filming a Quaker commercial?” 

“What if I said both? Shut up, I’m hungry too.” 

Kurt just snickered as he completed the same ritual as Blaine, pouring the hot water over a pile of oats, letting them steep and then adding his desired garnishes. In the silence of their robotic moves, they heard a new story being introduced by the news anchors. 

“Two young men were found dead in their Ridgewood apartment last Thursday after an alleged hate crime.” Blaine and Kurt almost flinched at the word hate crime but they were also very interested in the apartment location,

“Ridgewood? Isn’t that really close?” Blaine inquired, looking at Kurt. He was answered with a nod. Their eyes were glued to the TV as they continued to listen intently. Ms. Lopez continued with the story,

“The hate crimes have been linked to a string of deaths that have occurred over the past year in the NYC area.” The camera turned to Mr. Walker who continued as an image appeared next to him on the right of the screen. 

“Local authorities, and the FBI believe that the string of hate crimes can be linked to a Neo-Nazi group known as die Stärke. Victims of these crimes have been confirmed to have the word “sünde,” German for “sinner,” branded to their skin. In other cases, oftentimes after PRIDE and LGBTQ festivals, this gang has left the symbol spray painted on walls or painted on cars. “ Blaine and Kurt looked at the image. A balled up fist, appearing to punch the viewer, was surrounded by a link of chains. Around the chains they saw what looked like the iron cross that had been used by the Nazi party during World War II. Surrounding the fist were the words “blut und erhe”* which neither Blaine nor Kurt could understand. They weren’t sure they wanted to. Ms. Lopez finished the story,

“Unfortunately, no trace of their identity has been left at any crime scene. Local authorities and FBI are continuing their investigation to bring these criminals to justice. Anyone in the Ridgewood or surrounding neighborhood is being advised to exercise extreme caution. Avoid walking alone at night and make sure to make your location known to at least one other person at all times. If you see this symbol or know any information of this Neo-Nazi organization, you are asked to contact your local police.” 

As the morning news went to a commercial break, Kurt and Blaine looked at each other with concerned expressions. Kurt nervously took another bite of his oatmeal.

“Well?” Blaine spoke first. The seriousness of the situation was too weighty for him to articulate a question. 

“Well what?” Kurt responded. 

“What do you think? Does that story concern you?” The worry was evident in Blaine’s voice. Kurt wasn’t entirely sure how to answer. He knew that, sadly, every day he held Blaine’s hand when they walked down the street there was a chance of them being attacked by narrow- minded people. He also knew that Blaine was a protective person, and he too was aware of the hate of others. Had he completely forgotten about Dave Korofsky shoving him against the wall for suggesting he was gay? 

Kurt cleared his throat. He methodically placed his spoon next to his bowl, and placed his elbow on the table’s edge. With his chin resting on his hand, he looked at Blaine again,

“Am I concerned? Well, yeah, I am. But I also know that there are hate crimes that occur every day.”

“Not by Neo-Nazis.” Blaine interjected. 

“Most of the time we don’t know who is committing the hate crimes because they run away like cowards. Maybe more of them are Neo-Nazis and we just never find out.” 

“Kurt,” Blaine’s voice took on the stern tone of an annoyed teacher. 

“Yes, Blaine, I am concerned. But I am not going to let it stop me, or us,” he reached across the table and took Blaine’s hand, “from living. You know why?”

“Why?”

“Because then they win.” 

After a pregnant pause, Blaine’s head tilted to the side. He maintained eye contact and then furrowed his brow,

“I love you.” he gushed. Kurt lovingly leaned over the table, bringing Blaine’s hand to his lips. After placing a soft kiss on his fingers he responded,

“I know.” 

Blaine was beginning to get impatient with Kurt, but decided it was best for him to finish his breakfast and get into the shower before they were late for class. He downed the rest of his breakfast by quickly shoveling it into his mouth while walking his dishes back to the sink. Kurt laughed,

“Are you suddenly in a hurry?”

“It’s almost seven. I have to get my ass ready or we’ll be late for class,” he said with his mouth full. Normally he would hate the fact that he ignored his table manners but the only thing he hated more was being late for an engagement. Kurt glanced at his watch and his eyes widened in surprise,

“Oh shit, you’re right. You go ahead, I will finish cleaning up.” 

With a thumbs up, as his mouth was still full of oats, Blaine quickly headed to the bathroom, closing the door abruptly. It wasn’t long before Kurt was delighted with the sounds of Blaine singing from the shower. It made him smile. Damn, he loved that man so much. 

*******

Even though the weather forecast called for a lovely day, Kurt and Blaine could feel the cool bite of autumn as they exited the apartment. The breeze tickled their faces as they both turned their collars up and made their way toward the subway station. This was always Blaine’s favorite time of year. The heat of summer was moving on and the world was starting to slow down. The change in temperature also meant a change in wardrobe. Kurt was always up on the fall fashion and eager to educate Blaine on the newest items that would be hitting the window displays. Blaine considered himself fairly up on fashion, but he always loved to hear Kurt talk about it. His face beamed with excitement and sometimes a grandiose display of expertise. The climate also gave Blaine an excuse to spend more time cuddling up with his lover in an attempt to stay warm. This invitation was always answered with compliance when the two climbed under the covers together. 

Thankfully, Blaine had finished his shower in record time, leaving both of them an extra moment to stop by their favorite coffee stand. The quaint but welcoming edifice was located only a couple of blocks from the subway entrance. Not only did this give them a chance to get some caffeine in their systems, but it also allowed them to visit with the very bubbly and flamboyant barista, Ignacio. 

“¡Hola, amigos!” the melodic greeting of their favorite coffee connoisseur met their ears as they rounded the corner. Blaine and Kurt returned the greeting with wide eyes and smiles,

“¡Hola, Ignacio!” they said in unison. 

Ignacio’s dark brown eyes squinted as he leaned back and jokingly placed his hand on his heart,

“Aye, I love it when you both talk at the same time, amigos.” he cooed in his thick Puerto Rican accent. 

Thankfully, no one was waiting in line at the time. Blaine was able to reach into his pocket and deposit the pre-counted charge for the coffee onto the counter before Ignacio even had it ready. 

“Uh oh, maybe we have been living together for too long, huh?” Kurt joked. Blaine playfully smacked his arm and raised his eyebrow defensively. Ignacio had collected the two cups needed to fulfill their order of two plain drip coffees and was filling them up at the spout.

“No such thing, fellas. If you two stop living together, then the world has gone to shit, no?” 

As Ignacio finished their order, Blaine felt his phone buzzing from his pocket. With one swift, almost automatic, motion, he removed his phone from his jacket and examined the screen. A new message had come in from Sam. A quick tap of the home button brought up his SMS app.

_ <<Gonna be another week with the photoshoot. Will be later than expected. Details later. BLAM!>> _

“Oh, it looks like we will be having the apartment to ourselves for a while longer.” Blaine said expectantly to Kurt. With a raised eyebrow, Kurt verbalized his confusion in a half-hearted grunt. Blaine held up his phone for Kurt to see. He watched his lover’s facial expression change from puzzled to satisfied. 

“Mmmm, Kurt likey.” 

Over the last few weeks, they had kindly opened up their doors to Sam as transitional housing until he was able to find something for himself. They both loved him, but he had been clearly taking advantage of their kindness. Normally Blaine wouldn’t have had an issue with his close friend sharing a home with them, but when his presence got in the way of Klaine time, it was definitely bothersome. They would absolutely be enjoying some more evening playtime this week, much to the expense of their performances in class. 

“Okay, amigos, aquí tengo sus cafes.” Ignacio lovingly handed the coffees to his two friends and smiled. “What’s up first today, boys?” he inquired. 

“Movement studies. I think today we are working with a mime. This should be interesting.” Blaine looked nervously at Kurt who proceeded to give both of them a preview of what was to come, albeit poorly. Blaine elbowed him, “Are you hating on mimes?” Kurt put his hand up defensively and shook his head,

“No, no, I’m just giving Ignacio a glimpse of the ridiculousness everyone in our class is going to witness when I try to do it myself.” 

Ignacio shook his finger at him,

“No, amigo. Give yourself more credit. I bet by the time the class is over, you’ll be teaching the teacher!” 

Kurt and Blaine looked at him lovingly, tilting their heads to the side. 

“Awww, Ignacio. What would our lives be without you?” 

They both approached the booth, reached out their hands and pulled him into a quick hug, one on each side. They made sure to deposit a peck on the cheek before breaking away with a smile. 

“Muua, I love you guys! Have a great day and I will see you tomorrow morning, no?” 

Blaine and Kurt proceeded to the subway entrance, waving back at Ignacio. He blew them kisses as they disappeared down the stairs. 

Kurt’s phone pinged from his pants pocket. A quick glance at the screen and he furrowed his brow and stuck out his bottom lip in a childish pout. Blaine snickered as he took a sip of his coffee, almost making himself choke. 

“What?” 

“Looks like our Monday night potluck is on the fritz tonight, babe. Artie can’t make it.” Kurt responded in a whiny voice. Blaine’s eyebrows turned down in a frown,

“Aw, why?” he looked over at Kurt’s phone, well aware that he was rubbernecking.

_ <<Sorry, fellas. I have a busy night tonight with work. Won’t make it to potluck. Raincheck?>> _

Now it was Blaine’s turn to pout. He watched as Kurt quickly typed in a response, making sure to lay on the guilt nice and thick. 

_ <<Sure, whatevs. We get that you have found someone way more interesting to hang out with. *wink*>> _

_ <<Blaine and I will just cry ourselves to sleep over a bottle of wine...without you. :-P>> _

Blaine chuckled,

“Oh, you are good at guilt trips, babe.” Kurt just responded with a playful smirk and a raised eyebrow as he pressed SEND. Within seconds, Artie had retaliated in pure sarcastic fashion,

_ <<I guess I am just getting too popular for you guys. You had to know this was coming. Have a glass of wine for me...bitch. ;-) >> _

Kurt and Blaine both chuckled,

“Oh, Artie, you sassy little shit.” Blaine laughed. He put his arm around Kurt’s as they entered the subway car. They were surprised to find an empty seat near the door, especially on a Monday at 8AM. Normally the two of them would have had to find a small corner of the car and hold onto the bars for dear life. This was all while making sure no one was trying to pick their pockets or their shoulder bags. 

“So, Artie is working, Sam is out of town longer for his photoshoots, Santana and Mercedes are in Los Angeles for the foreseeable future and that leaves Rachel. Maybe the potluck is salvageable,” Kurt verbalized his thoughts as he pulled out his phone again. 

“Nope, Rachel had to take the redeye last night to meet with a producer about a show. Sorry, I forgot to tell you.” Blaine interjected. Kurt mockingly appeared to be offended, his hand on his chest and jaw wide open.

“I’m hurt.” 

“You were asleep when I got the message so I decided I’d tell you this morning. And then..I..forgot.” Blaine shrugged. “You looked so beautiful in bed and so peaceful, I didn't want to interrupt.” he continued, leaning over and kissing Kurt on the neck. With a childish shimmy of his shoulders, Kurt turned his nose up, leaned over to Blaine and said,

“Nice save.” 

They rode in silence for a time as the train continued its stop-and-go trek toward NYADA. They had become so accustomed to the morning commute that they often didn’t hear the announcements of the stops from the PA. Blaine scanned the other passengers in the car, making sure not to appear like he was staring. This was always one of his favorite parts of the ride. Kurt had told him it was weird, but Blaine was just a people person. He was always fascinated by the notion that there was an infinite number of possible things each of these people could be doing that day. Today was no different. His eyes slowly scanned the inside of the traincar. The woman directly across from them was buried in a NYT crossword puzzle as if her life depended on finishing it before her stop. Every now and then her eyes would gaze at the ceiling as if the answer was printed there. To her right was an older gentleman who looked like a carbon copy of Blaine from high school, but as a grandfather. He would occasionally pull out his pocket watch that was attached to his neatly pressed green vest, glance at the time, and then place it back in his pocket. Blaine was unsure whether he had forgotten what the time was, or he was just displaying some nervous energy. He was definitely going somewhere important. The evidence of this displayed in the effort he had put into his look. 

To Blaine’s surprise, he came to the realization that someone else in the train car was doing the same thing he was. When they met eyes, it almost startled him. A few seats to the right of the old man, in the opposite corner of the car, sat another man who seemed equally as put together. However, the way he looked back at Blaine made his skin crawl. This man’s piercing blue eyes seemed to be picking him apart from the inside out. There was judgement in his gaze that made Blaine almost feel like he was on trial for murder. He took note of the man’s carefully pressed dress shirt, long emerald neck tie and dark grey dress pants. He sat with his legs and arms crossed. Even his bright blonde hair and beard were well kept and trimmed. The scrutiny from the man’s judging stare made Blaine look away. He turned to Kurt, trying to forget what he had just experienced. Now was the time to continue the conversation that had been abandoned at breakfast,

“Seriously, Kurt. I think we still need to talk about what we saw on the TV this morning.” He felt a pang of annoyance as Kurt’s head fell back and rested against the window and he rolled his eyes. 

“Why are you still dwelling on that?” 

Blaine felt like a mother lecturing her spoiled child,

“Well, because I care about you and I want to make sure we are BOTH safe. Does that sound fair, princess?” 

After a short pause, Kurt elbowed him in the ribs, making him flinch. 

“What do you want us to do about it?” 

“I think we should make sure to text each other when we get off work. Since both of us walk home alone, I think it is a good idea that we let the other know of our whereabouts.” 

Kurt let out a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes again,

“So, I text you as soon as I leave work every night to let you know I am on the way home. You do the same.” Blaine nodded,

“Except on Tuesdays, since your work is on the way home from mine, I will stop and wait for you. I will text you when I leave so you know I am on my way. We can walk together then. Sound good?” he looked at Kurt expectantly. Kurt nodded,

“Yes, so then we can both get kidnapped at the same time.” he joked,

“Come on, Kurt, I am serious,” Blaine responded, showing he was becoming impatient.

After a moment of silence, Kurt started typing something on his phone. When he didn’t respond, Blaine cleared his throat and said,

“Are you ignoring me now?” his phone pinged from his pocket again. He scoffed as he pulled it out to see who was messaging him. “Wait, what the…?” his face changed from stern to confused as he saw Kurt had texted him while sitting right next to him. He looked back at his fiancé with an incredulous expression, “Really?” he chided. When Kurt didn’t respond, he looked more closely at the message,

_ <<Okay, fine.>> _

Blaine scoffed, humorously as yet another message came in with the cheerful ping,

_ <<...bitch.>> _

Blaine looked back at Kurt, mockingly offended. He pulled on Kurt’s collar, bringing their faces close together,

“I love it when you’re sassy,” he said in a whisper. Kurt snickered and pressed his lips softly against Blaine’s. He could taste the coffee on Kurt’s tongue along with the subtle hint of peppermint from his morning mouthwash. They kissed deeper, not really caring what the people around them thought. Not that it mattered much, anyway, as most everyone was just going about their day and paying them no mind. Everyone except the man in the corner. When they broke from their kiss, Blaine risked a glance up at the man one more time. A look of disgust was printed on his face. His eyes were narrowed and his lips, framed by the bright blonde beard, turned down almost into a frown. Blaine had never felt so emotionally threatened in his life for doing such an innocent thing. He turned his eyes away, relieved when he could focus on something more positive. That being the face of his fiance who sat quietly as the train continued toward NYADA. 

Thankfully they only had about four more stops to go, so the display of judgement from the unhappy passenger would not have to be endured much longer. Blaine reached down and interlaced his fingers with Kurt’s. They sat this way until finally they came to their stop, stood without letting go of each other’s hands and happily exited the train. 

******

As Kurt and Blaine entered their class they were met with the din of what seemed to be an intense conversation. The sunlight streaming through the windows seemed to be a stark contrast to the tension that was filling the room. What normally appeared as a dance studio was now akin to a forum. A large percentage of the group had separated into two teams facing each other. Kurt and Blaine were wondering if perhaps they had accidentally walked into a debate class instead of movement studies. This small crowd was clearly divided on a particular issue as words were shouted back and forth.

They set their bags near the door, as per their normal routine and, sharing a concerned glance, approached their classmates near the center of the dance studio. Kurt approached Garret, a classmate that he and Blaine had befriended when they had both begun at NYADA. He stood absorbed in the conversation, but was careful not to get involved in the cacophony of voices. He turned toward Kurt when he noticed a presence next to him. Immediately his blue eyes lit up and a cheerful, dimpled smile spread across his face. His long, toned arms wrapped around Kurt and pulled him into a tight hug,

“Good morning, beautiful.” he beamed. Kurt returned the affection by pulling back just as tightly, pressing his face against Garret’s. His classmate’s chestnut hair was pulled back in a ponytail that brushed against his nose as they hugged. When they pulled away, Garret locked eyes with Blaine and gave him a playful lick of his lips,

“Oh, boy, Blaine, you get sexier every day. I am so utterly jealous of Kurt right now.” 

Blaine blushed as he always did when people complimented him like that. He was always appreciative, but extremely humble at the same time. After a soft giggle, he wrapped his arms around Garret’s broad shoulders and was lifted slightly off the floor. Garret wasn’t monstrously tall, but he was at least four or five inches above Blaine. He was also very fit, so picking up Blaine was no chore for him. The hug ended with an affectionate exchange of mutual pecks on the cheek. 

“I’m sexy? Look at you, Mr. Toned As Hell!” Blaine said, flirtatiously. 

Garret scoffed jokingly and shooed at Blaine with a laugh. As the three of them turned back toward the impromptu debate, Kurt asked,

“So, two questions,” Garret locked eyes with him in anticipation, “where is Prof Daniels and what in the world is happening right now?” 

“Oh, an admin came up about two minutes ago saying he was going to be late. An accident is holding up all traffic on 5th Avenue. Could be half an hour, they said.” Garret held his hand out, palm facing up, toward the bickering crowd, “As for this, I think we are debating the crimes that were reported on the news this morning.” 

“What about it are they debating?” Blaine chimed in.

“As far as I know, because this is going back and forth so fast I am getting dizzy, they are debating whether they would take down these neo-Nazis themselves or let the authorities handle it.” 

“Oh, so vigilantism. I see,” Kurt added, “honestly, if it were me facing these coward Nazi folk, I would fight with everything I have in me. I’m not going down quietly.”

Garret looked at him with interest, his eyebrow lifted,

“Really? I find that interesting coming from you.” Kurt furrowed his brow,

“Why?” 

“I don’t mean it as an insult or anything. You just seem less confrontational than that,” Garret explained, holding his hands in front of him as if to avoid offending Kurt. 

“You’re right, I don’t like to be too confrontational if I can avoid it, but if it is my life on the line, I’d like to think that I wouldn’t just lay down and take it.” 

“EXACTLY!” a voice bellowed from the crowd of debaters. Kurt was suddenly aware of the silence of the room. As he turned toward the crowd, he noticed that most of the eyes that had been on each other were on him. Some looked at him expectantly, as if agreeing. Others gave him a look of judgement. One of the taller dark haired women of the group approached Kurt with her arms wide open. Kurt wasn’t sure what to do as he looked to Garret and Blaine for help. They merely shrugged their shoulders at him with faces full of confusion. 

“Exactly...what?” Kurt asked. She stopped next to him, grabbing his arms affectionately. 

“You wouldn’t just let the Neo-Nazi bastards just hurt you or someone else. You would jump in and stop them?” she reaffirmed. 

Kurt paused with his mouth hanging open, unable to articulate an answer. 

“Why risk it? Why not just call the cops and let them deal with it?” 

This comment from the opposing side ignited something in Kurt. It brought him back to all the times he was pushed up against lockers at McKinley, or thrown in the dumpster, or humiliated in front of the school. All of this happened simply because he was different. All of that pain because the majority was so afraid of change. This was exactly what these cowardly Neo-Nazis were doing. Trying to get rid of what they didn’t understand.

“Would I be risking my own safety to stand up to them? Yes. You are totally right that I could be endangering my life,” a few of the classmates against vigilantism perked up at this. They paid Kurt close attention as he continued, “But the longer these people go without opposition, the more people will be hurt just for existing. No one has tried to stop them, that’s why they feel empowered to continue terrorizing.” Kurt could see a few people nodding their heads in agreement. One of the other students lifted a fist in the air in enthusiastic praise. 

“Why are you willing to risk your own life though?” the same person asked. Kurt shrugged,

“You ask a very legitimate question. But if my injury or even my death meant that these people were closer to being stopped, it is a worthy sacrifice. I’ve lived with this for most of my life. I have been shunned, beaten, and humiliated simply because I am attracted to men. Other people should not have to experience what I have experienced. Ever. These assholes need to know that they can’t get away with this.” 

“Yeah, you say that now. In the heat of the moment you wouldn’t though.” a voice chimed from the congregation. Blaine took offense and stepped forward,

“Hey, what’s the big idea…?” Kurt extended his arm in front of his fiancé, met eyes with him and shook his head. Blaine was intrigued by this. This classmate, who barely knew him, had just challenged his sincerity. He looked on with great interest, wondering how Kurt would respond.

Kurt raised his eyebrow pensively and looked toward the floor. Meaningful conversations meant meaningful self-reflection. He wasn’t offended at all. In fact, he was glad his classmate brought up the point,

“You make a good argument. I can say whatever I want. It doesn’t mean anything, does it?” 

The classmate who made the challenge moved forward and, spread his arms out, as if to say, “Exactly, see what I mean?” Kurt moved forward, mustering all of the confidence he could,

“But I can talk about one thing and that’s regret. I regret the times I let those assholes in high school treat me like I was less than human. I regret all the times I didn’t stand up for a person who was going through the same thing I did. And I can only hope that, if I were faced with these men, I could gather up that regret and turn it into some kind of defense. I won’t know unless it happens. But I promise you I am not going down easily.” 

He received a chorus of cheers from his supporters followed by a round of applause. He felt a friendly smack on his back and turned to his right. Garret was smiling and clapping vigorously trying to get the crowd riled up. Kurt just laughed and waved his hands in front of him, trying to stifle the craziness. 

As the applause died down, both Kurt and Blaine assumed that the heated debate was over. They were mistaken. As Blaine stood there admiring the confidence of his fiancé, another voice chimed in from the congregation,

“What about you?”

After a pregnant pause that involved Kurt and Blaine looking at each other and then an expression of utter confusion from Blaine, he asked,

“Me?” 

“No, the queen behind you.” 

He almost felt slapped by that sarcastic remark. Despite the offensiveness of the comment, Blaine kept his cool. He had also had his share of bullying in the short time since he came out. 

“You need to be more specific. What exactly are you asking me?” 

“Do you agree with your boyfriend? Would you try to stop these Neo-Nazis, be a vigilante?” 

Kurt folded his arms in front of him, facing the people who were interrogating his lover. He was feeling a bit protective at the moment, but he was also curious what Blaine would say. When he looked into Blaine’s eyes, it was almost as if the man was asking for permission to continue. Kurt just shrugged and held his hand out, as if to coax him to respond. 

“I can’t say at this moment what I would do” he heard a few people groaning at him. He countered with, “Come on, guys. If you are all completely honest with yourselves, you don’t know what you would do either. You can talk your mouth off in this room, but as soon as that gun is pointed at your face, a different person emerges because you are in survival mode. That being said, I do know this,” he turned back to Kurt and squeezed his hand affectionately, “I may not know what I’d do for myself, but I would die to save this man if these cowards threatened his life.”

Before anyone could argue or agree with Blaine, the tardy professor walked over the threshold and stopped dead in his tracks. His appearance was disheveled, revealing the heightened level of stress he had recently experienced. His eyes searched the room as he examined the faces of his students both in frustration and confusion. 

“Do I dare ask what is going on?” he quipped. A few people chuckled, loosening the tension. Professor Daniels removed his shoulder bag and his fancy leather jacket. He deposited them on the wall hook behind him, reserved specifically for faculty.

“I need everyone in formation facing the east wall, and make it snappy!” he ordered both sternly and enthusiastically. 

Kurt and Blaine hadn’t moved since Blaine had made his comment. Kurt tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. He was searching Blaine for answers. Was he serious? Had he meant what he said? He could only assess that, since Blaine’s gaze had not faltered in the slightest, he held his opinion steadfast. In a return of affection, Kurt wrapped his arm around Blaine’s waist and pulled him closer to his body. They walked over to the mass of students facing the east wall. Just when Kurt didn’t think Blaine could surprise him any more, the man went and did a back flip. 

*******

Kurt’s nostrils were overwhelmed by the aroma of hazelnut as he and Blaine entered the Everyday Cafe about a block east of where class was held. The smell had interrupted his ruminations of what had occurred only a couple hours prior. The entire debate had come as a surprise to both of them. Kurt and Blaine had had a blind assumption that most of the people who matriculated at NYADA followed similar moral and political pursuits. The conversation they had just witnessed had definitely corrected this bias. It seemed as though the class was cut down the middle as to who thought it right to participate in vigilantism and who did not. 

One thing was picking at Kurt’s brain. The comments his boyfriend had made at the very beginning of class made him feel proud and concerned at the same time. He knew they both loved each other dearly. He also knew that they would protect one another fiercely. However, hearing Blaine speak so confidently about his own demise and his being willing to trade his life to save Kurt’s brought a pang of guilt to his heart. 

“I’ve got this, you go sit down,” Blaine stroked the taller man’s arm lovingly while the two were approaching the order counter. Kurt returned the gesture with a wink and headed to their corner booth. The two had frequented this place enough that they had established an unofficial spot all their own. There, they could hold a conversation in confidence while still having access to the world outside. The large picture window at the front of the cafe allowed plenty of light to enter the establishment. The four booths lining the front of the place all had equal ownership of this window. Blaine and Kurt often found themselves sitting together, chatting and people watching during their two hour lunch breaks. 

Within minutes, Blaine appeared next to the booth with a plastic numbered placard in his hand. After placing it at the edge of the table, he removed his jacket and shuffled into the seat across from Kurt. His partner just watched him deliberately, taking in every movement, every facial expression. Kurt had held the assumption that he had memorized this man’s every mannerism. What he had witnessed in class asserted that Blaine had much more beneath the surface that Kurt had yet to discover. It did not worry him. It only made him love Blaine more. The statement he had made in class would be the theme of today’s conversation. 

Blaine felt the warmth of his fiance’s hand in his own. He paused for a moment, looking down at their hands, and then up into Kurt’s eyes. There was a mysterious, and almost mischievous, smile printed on his lips. 

“What?”

“Did you mean it?” 

Blaine was confused and he searched Kurt’s face for hints. Kurt had a way of making him guess, but Blaine had no idea where this was going. He paused for a moment and then grabbed the plastic placard,

“Did I mean it when I said ‘I got this’? Well, I would say so. The fact that I came back with this means you just weren't paying attention, sweetheart.” he finished his statement with a chuckle. Then he saw the stern expression on Kurt’s face. 

“You would die for me?” 

The smile faded from Blaine’s face. Why was Kurt asking him about this? Was his word not enough? Did he have a reason not to trust it? He thought that once he had said it in class, that would be the end of it. He leaned in and sighed heavily,

“Why do you ask?” 

“I don't know. I guess, saying you’ll die for me just seemed a bit extreme, don’t you think?” 

Blaine nodded, “Well, yeah, it is extreme. But I meant it. I’m kind of surprised that you are doubting it.” 

Kurt shook his head and placed his hand on top of their interlaced fingers, squeezing them tightly. He spoke firmly,

“No, I am not doubting it. I just didn’t think I would be…” his words trailed off as he looked down hesitantly. Blaine knitted his brow. When Kurt spent too much time hesitating, he reached over the table and, placing his hand under Kurt’s chin, moved his head up to look at him.

“You would be what?” 

Kurt chuckled and wiped the tear that was creeping down his face,

“I didn’t think I would be worth it.” 

Blaine’s eyes showed overwhelming sympathy for his betrothed as he tilted his head to the side. He whimpered slightly and then it was he who squeezed Kurt’s hand. 

“How could you even think that? Of course you are worth it. You're the love of my life, Kurt, and if I have the opportunity to save you, I am going to take it.” 

“Yeah, you say that, but I wouldn’t blame you if, should the occasion present itself, you were to change your mind. I don’t expect this from you. I hope you know that.” 

Blaine let go of Kurt’s hand and grabbed his face. His eyes were serious now, not sympathetic or playful. 

“I mean it. No joking.”

Kurt put his hands over Blaine’s and caressed them lovingly. He leaned into one of Blaine’s hands with his cheek and smiled,

“Well, let’s just hope you never have to make that choice.” With that, he removed Blaine’s hands from his face and placed a soft kiss on each one. With perfect timing, the waitress brought their salads and placed them gently on the table in front of them. She then deposited two iced teas and, thanking them, removed the plastic placard and walked away. It seemed that, for now, this conversation had reached its culmination. 

They each lifted their glasses, made a quick toast and smiled at one another. It was time to move on to happier things. 

******

The sun had crept below the horizon well before Blaine entered the apartment. Kurt had received his check-in text message about fifteen minutes prior saying he was on his way home. He crossed the threshold carrying more tension than usual in his shoulders as he shrugged off his jacket in frustration. Kurt stood at the stove preparing the evening meal, and looked up at Blaine with concern in his face,

“What’s wrong with you?” 

Not long after Blaine had arrived in New York, he knew he had to find a job to help contribute to the monthly rent. While being paid as a Broadway actor was in his future, the chances of him landing a role so soon was slim to none. He looked instead at the music store not far from Kurt’s workplace called Mosh Pit. Not only did he love his boss and his coworkers, but he felt that he actually had some expertise to offer to their patrons. Music came to him easily, and he also reveled in sharing his enthusiasm for instruments. He was proficient in piano, guitar, drums and violin and lovingly discussed options with aspiring musicians who visited the store. His boss, Andy, had told him that, while he would be proud of him if he made it to Broadway, he didn’t know how the store could function without him. “You can take your time ‘making it’,” he had said. Customers often came back asking for him personally, having remembered a pleasant experience shopping under his guidance. Usually Blaine’s experiences at work were positive. The hours sometimes felt long, but his passion often outweighed any of the inconveniences of his job. Today, however, the job had not lived up to the hype.

Blaine slumped onto the couch and let out a heavy sigh. Kurt was beginning to worry at this point. Even when things annoyed him, he often lit up by the time he got back home. 

“Some asshole came into the store today and berated me and my coworkers.” Kurt made a sound of disgust,

“Ugh, that sucks. I always hate it when people are nasty. Mind telling me what happened?” 

Blaine sighed again and then sat up straight. He looked at Kurt scowled,

“Did I tell you about the guy on the train this morning?” 

“Oh, that guy that was angry we were kissing?” Kurt responded, reminding him that they had discussed this at lunch. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s right. Well, he decided to come to the store today and just start yelling for no reason. Andy had to kick his ass out because he was scaring the other customers.” 

The only sound in the apartment was that of the vegetables sauteing on the stove-top. Kurt stood waiting patiently for the rest of the story. Blaine didn’t stop with a vague explanation of anything. There was no way he was finished relaying the events of his shift. He stood from the couch and sauntered toward the kitchen table. 

“I was tuning one of the guitars on display when I noticed him walk in. At first I thought I was seeing things, but then he walked right up to me. And I asked him what I could do for him, and if he wanted to try out the guitars.” He sat in one of the chairs and, stretching his hands across the table gave out a groan of satisfaction. 

“So, what happened after that?” Kurt urged him to continue. 

“Well, he sort of just stood there staring at me for a while. When he didn’t respond after what seemed like forever, another person approached me and asked me a question. And that is when this guy just lost it.” 

Kurt raised an eyebrow,

“Lost it?” 

“I mean he just screamed at this other guy saying ‘NO, HE’S HELPING ME RIGHT NOW SO GO AWAY!’ And I was just trying to diffuse the situation, but it just made it worse. The other customer just backed away in shock. I tried to apologize to him, but he said not to worry. Andy ended up having to get involved.”

“What did he end up doing?” Kurt picked up the pan from the stove-top and tossed the veggies about, making sure they were evenly coated in olive oil before carefully placing it back on the flame. 

“He just told the guy to leave. Eventually he did in a huff,” Blaine looked off into the distance, focusing on nothing in particular. He appeared to be daydreaming when Kurt interrupted him,

“Well, you’re home now, so you can help me by setting the table, gorgeous.”

Blaine shook himself out of his stupor and then stood from the table. He walked over to the cupboard and pulled out two plates and two glasses. As he made his way back to the table and was setting them down, his phone sang from his back pocket. The screen lit up as he tapped on the notification from his news app. The most recent headline popped up, reading:

**NEO-NAZI HATE CRIMES REPORTED NEAR BUSHWICK NEIGHBORHOOD**. 

His heart began to race as he glanced at the image accompanying the article. The same symbol that had been displayed during the morning newscast of the fist surrounded by the chains and the iron cross had been spray painted on one of the shops in the Bushwick area. From the decorations surrounding the graffiti, Blaine recognized it as a bookstore about several blocks east of his workplace in the Liberty Park area. He didn’t say anything at first and didn’t want to alarm his fiancé, but Kurt’s curiosity got the better of him,

“What’s it say?” he inquired. Blaine approached him and showed him the article on his phone screen. Kurt didn’t react to it and just continued preparing their meal. 

“I’m glad we have our safety system set in place. I hope the text I sent you put you at ease,” Blaine remarked, putting his phone back in his pocket. Kurt nodded,

“Well, my dear, I have to admit. I am glad we decided to start doing that. Especially since these bastards seem to be moving closer to us. It would devastate me if something…” Kurt stopped what he was saying when he noticed a strange look on his lover’s face. He appeared to be ruminating on something, as if trying to solve a puzzle, “what’s wrong?”

“Now that I think about it, this guy that came in tonight had a very thick German accent. And he was HUGE. I mean, he had to be at least six foot four. Even if I had wanted to get physical with him, he would have ripped me to shreds.”

Kurt nodded, but was confused,

“What does he have to do with the hate crimes?” 

Blaine wrapped his arm around Kurt’s shoulder, pulling him closer,

“You’re going to think this is crazy, but, I am starting to wonder if maybe he was one of the gang members. I mean, he hated watching us kiss and then he targeted _me_ at my work.”

Kurt groaned,

“Oh, Lord, Blaine. Just because this guy has a German accent doesn’t mean he is a Neo-Nazi. I mean, just think about how much of a melting pot New York is. There are so many people who could possibly be part of this gang. Don’t jump to conclusions just yet. You may never see him again.” 

Blaine nodded and squeezed Kurt’s shoulder affectionately. He didn’t seem convinced at first. Kurt leaned in closer and placed a kiss on his lover’s cheek,

“Come help me consume this amazing masterpiece of a meal.” 

They both giggled and made their way to the table. Kurt placed the pan on a hot pad and then walked back to the stove to collect the bowl of rice. Blaine served a generous portion of vegetables to himself and Kurt while the other proceeded to fill both of their glasses with iced tea. As they both lifted their first forkfuls to their mouths, they took solace in the silence of the apartment and the pleasure of each other’s company.

Outside the safety of the apartment, someone else’s intentions did not match those of the loving couple. Under the shadow of night, he crept between the night crowds of Bushwick, going unnoticed. The patrons of the nearby bars and shops saw nothing out of the ordinary as he walked by. They did not see what was actually a man who was stalking. he was a wolf out for his prey. He was looking for a poor, vulnerable soul. He was looking for the next victim. 


	3. Somebody Loves You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter introduces us to the daily routines of the boys. It is very long! Sorry about that, but I wanted to establish a bit more about their daily lives in New York. It skips around over the course of two weeks. In this chapter, Kurt and Blaine meet two mysterious visitors at their jobs and they have a frightening encounter on their way home one night.  
> Sorry for the wait on this one, it took me quite awhile! 
> 
> Language notes (some Spanish in this chapter):  
> Vaya con Dios = Go with God  
> barrio = neighborhood  
> cabrones = bastards/dicks  
> Hasta luego = See you later
> 
> Warnings: Very hateful words and cussing.

_Wednesday:_

Kurt and Blaine immediately absorbed the mood of the movement studies class as they walked into the studio. Monday had presented them with lively and,at times, tense conversation of a debate. Today, the impression they were getting was blase and detached. Not even the indifferent attitude of a normal, mundane Wednesday could compare to what Blaine and Kurt were feeling. Something was just off. 

After leaving their bags by the door, as per usual, they immediately scanned their environment for familiar faces. Garret was one of their closest friends and he was always the first person they greeted. After Kurt surveyed the people present, he realized Garret was not among them. He turned toward Blaine with a concerned expression,

“Do you see…” 

“Garret? No, I don’t,” Blaine finished Kurt’s sentence. They smirked at each other, trying to lift the momentary anxiety,

“We are married before we’re married, my dear,” Kurt joked. 

Being absent from class was not that big a deal, but something stirred in the pit of Kurt’s stomach. Garret was usually present. Only one other time had he not shown up, and that was for a family member’s funeral. He had been gone on a Thursday, but returned promptly the following Monday, instead of taking the allowed week-long bereavement. Kurt bit his bottom lip and crossed his arms in front of him. Blaine noticed,

“You okay?” 

Kurt’s head jerked in Blaine’s direction, as if he had been caught doing something he didn’t want him to see. He shrugged his shoulders,

“I don’t know. I am just worried.” he responded. Blaine raised his eyebrow,

“Why? He could just be late.” 

Kurt nodded and leaned in closer to the dark haired man. He wrapped his arm around his shoulder and pulled him closer to whisper in his ear,

“Yeah, but I know he is gay and I am worried about him considering the circumstances. He is rarely ever gone and he has never been late.” 

Blaine snickered and Kurt backed off with wide eyes. His face depicted that he was offended and he shrugged at his boyfriend inquisitively. Blaine patted him on the shoulder and squeezed,

“I hear you, but I think you are over-analyzing the situation. Let’s just get started like normal. Who knows, maybe he will show up?” 

Professor Daniels started barking out orders to the class, but Kurt and Blaine were oblivious. They were locked in a staring contest, like they often were when one wanted to prove to the other that he was right. Blaine tried to lighten the mood by crossing his eyes and successfully got a giggle out of Kurt. They hadn’t noticed that the entire class was in formation without them,

“Hey, when you two are done eye-fucking each other would you care to join us?” one of their classmates shouted. Kurt and Blaine didn’t flinch at the comment. They were used to much worse being screamed at them. As they approached the group, Blaine retorted with,

“We are never done eye-fucking. I’m honestly offended that you interrupted.”

The potential argument was cut short by Professor Daniels,

“Okay, now that I have that disgusting image in my head, let’s get started shall we?” 

As the warm up began, Kurt and Blaine exchanged a friendly wink. 

********

Kurt was flustered. That was the best way to describe his current mental state. Just plain flustered. Class had begun and ended without a hitch to the lesson, but Garret had not shown up. Now Kurt’s anxiety was torturing him. As he walked back from NYADA toward his place of employment his mind continued to analyze the possible excuses for his friend’s absence. 

“Is he sick? Did someone else in his family get really sick or die? Why didn’t he text me? Usually he does when this happens…” 

When Kurt walked into the break room, he pulled out his phone and quickly composed a message to his friend,

_ <<Checking in. Blaine and I did not see you in class today. Just making sure you’re okay. *heart*>> _

A quick glance at the time on his phone’s screen indicated that he had exactly five minutes to change his shirt and get out to start serving tables. He slipped on his sorry excuse for a button down shirt, that would certainly make the fashionistas faint, and looked at himself in the mirror. Within seconds he had his black apron tied around his waist. Class had asked a lot of him physically and, as he ran his hand through his hair, he could still feel the residue of sweat. After making a sneer at his own hand and then rubbing it on his pants, he took one last glance at the horrid black and red vertical stripes of his uniform and gave himself a half-hearted shrug. 

Kurt had been working at Starlight Diner for over five months. He had the routine down and he knew the menu like the back of his hand, mostly because they never changed anything. People came more for the atmosphere than they did for the food. What Kurt enjoyed about the place was its soundtrack. Each night they had a musical theme, which was a relief to Kurt. knowing his ears wouldn’t be plagued by that horrendous “muzak.” After hearing the same song twenty times in a shift, he would have lost his mind. One unique characteristic was the fact that most of the wait staff was studying performing arts in some way. This being true, the manager would occasionally give each of them a chance to shine by allowing them to perform for their guests.

Kurt was proud to remind Blaine of his popularity with the patrons. Many times he caught them off guard when he began to sing. Oftentimes, and he was well aware of this, the crowd assumed they would be hearing a very different voice coming out of him. When his lovely falsetto exited his lips, many of them were caught in awe. Not many men could sing the likes of Mariah Carey, Jennifer Lopez and Barbara Streisand without looking like they were straining or being satirical. Kurt, on the other hand, owned it. He knew that tonight he would solely be waiting tables with no entertainment involved. It bummed him a bit, but he knew it was at least a paycheck. 

Without looking, he walked past the name tag slots near the kitchen door, grabbed his placard, and attached it to his shirt. He then walked out onto the battlefield of waiting patrons, making sure to stop at the hostess stand. His coworker, Sabrina, swished her long ponytail off of her shoulder and regarded Kurt with a smile. Her brown eyes sparkled behind her thin framed glasses as she pointed to the seating chart on the hostess stand. 

“Looks like you have section one, my friend.” she said, her voice laced with sympathy. Kurt lovingly rested his chin on her shoulder, making her giggle. He examined the seating chart carefully and then scrunched up his nose in protest,

“Aww, do I have to?” he mused. Sabrina snickered and, placing a peck on Kurt’s cheek responded,

“You’re the best man for the job. Wear the badge well.” 

Section one was infamous. It consisted of the ten seats that lined the bar at the front of the restaurant. Often it was peppered with Bushwick’s finest clientele, consisting of the middle aged cheaters meeting a mistress ten years their junior, or the drunk CEO complaining about how hard his life was. Most of the patrons that graced the benches with their presence behaved in a horrifically childish and entitled manner. While there was a repeat of the type, thankfully, they didn’t have any regulars at the bench. Most likely the affairs were forgettable or the CEO could find another waiter to feel more sympathy for his plight and therefore wouldn’t return. Kurt and his coworkers were not saddened by this reality. 

He glanced behind him, taking in a quick snapshot of the clients waiting at the bar. As it was close to 5 P.M., he knew the dinner rush would soon fill the diner. Surprisingly, he saw only one person waiting patiently at a stool near the right side of the bar. From behind he looked well kept with a neatly brushed frock and carefully pressed garments. He turned back to Sabrina,

“How long has he been there?” he inquired. She too scanned the scene at the front and then, turning back to Kurt, shrugged her shoulders. 

“I started at 5 too. I didn’t seat him. So, longer than 5 minutes, I guess.” 

Kurt reached into the plastic bin sitting on the inside shelf of the hostess stand and collected his guest check booklet and a pen. While the entire staff had to adorn themselves in the hideousness that was the red and black shirt, they were all free to decorate the black check holder that they carried in the pocket of their aprons. Kurt was happy to show off his crafting skills with the lovely decorations of sequins he had carefully glued to the front and back of his check holder. Many of his coworkers, including Sabrina, had given him shit for it. He just retorted with, 

“You are just intimidated by my remarkable artistic skill.” Most of them responded with an expected roll of their eyes. 

After placing his mini folder in his apron, he leaned over and returned the kiss Sabrina had given him on her left cheek,

“Here goes nothing, gorgeous.” 

“Vaya con Dios, amigo,” she joked in response. 

The menu of the mysterious customer sat closed under his folded hands. This told Kurt there were two possibilities. Either he had chosen what he wanted quickly and was now waiting, or he was hoping for recommendations. As Kurt rounded the counter, entering through the small door on the right, he took in the characteristics of this new client. He sat with good posture, his back straight and shoulders back. This was unusual for those who sat at the bar. Usually their posture reflected the turmoil they had experienced during their days at work. This man appeared to be the antithesis as a relaxed and content individual. His chestnut hair was gelled and styled into a makeshift collection of waves at the top while the sides of his head were shaved slightly shorter. His shoulders were adorned with a loosely fitted blazer that hung to his waist and adorned the dark green t-shirt underneath. Overall, he looked very carefully put together and like an individual who took great pride in perfecting his appearance.

As Kurt approached, the man regarded him with a very welcoming smile. It wasn’t overwhelmingly open, he just came across as very nonthreatening. His striking blue eyes smiled from behind the glasses as he nodded,

“Hello, my friend. Will you be helping me this evening?” he inquired. Kurt was almost taken aback by his friendly tone. This rarely happened. Usually he had to be on his guard, ready to turn on his fake customer service face. He smiled back,

“Why, yes, sir. I will be taking care of you. What can I get for you to drink?” 

The new customer shifted in his chair and adjusted his coat over his thin frame. He picked up the menu and handed it to Kurt gently. His long, thin face perfectly framed his friendly smile,

“Could I request a caesar salad and an iced tea, please?” there was no tone of sarcasm or tension in his voice, which Kurt was accustomed to. Taking the order in the form of a scribble on his customer check booklet, Kurt felt the tautness of his shoulders release. He had a feeling this was going to be one of his more enjoyable shifts. Already, this man had shown him more respect in under a minute than he usually received in a week. Kurt received the menu with a thank you and deposited it on the shelf opposite the bar. 

“Coming right up,” Kurt returned the friendly smile to his patron and disappeared into the kitchen to drop off the ticket. Before returning to the counter, he exchanged glances with another of his coworkers with a facial expression that could only be described as childish glee. The chef looked at him in confusion and shrugged,

“What’s with you?” he asked. 

“The customer at the counter is so nice! Finally a break!” Kurt responded with enthusiasm showing in his eyes.

“Lucky bitch.” the chef responded with a jealous scoff. 

Kurt returned to his station behind the counter and, retrieving a clean glass from the stash on the counter, began to fill it from the ice tea spout. He turned to face the customer,

“Would you like a lemon with that?” 

The customer looked at him quizzically. 

“A lemon? In iced tea?” he asked. Kurt’s heart jumped. Oh no, he had said the wrong thing and now the guy was going to do a 180 on him. Kurt smiled and turned on his best customer service voice,

“Only if you’re interested. I will gladly leave it out if you prefer not to have it.” 

The gentleman shook his head and held his hands out in front of him. His face changed from confused to sheepish,

“I’m sorry, my friend. I am not from around here and this is my first time having iced tea and being offered a lemon. I am afraid I have never tried it. Do you recommend it?” 

Kurt’s eyes widened in surprise,

“I get to serve you your first iced tea?” 

The man chuckled, “You indeed have the honor.” he responded. Kurt carried the glass over to the counter and carefully sat it down in front of the man. He deposited a straw from his apron next to the glass that was now adorned with a lemon wedge hanging over the lip. Kurt held his hands out, pointing out the masterpiece before him,

“In my opinion, this is the best way to experience what is known as iced tea,” he opined. The man nodded and, taking the glass in his right hand, lifted it to his lips and took a sip. His eyes closed as he regarded the taste on his tongue for a second. Shortly after, he set the glass down and looked Kurt dead in the eyes, his expression stern. Kurt was frightened for a moment, his eyes widening in horror,

“I should take your advice for every order, my friend.” the man smiled and chuckled at Kurt’s response. 

“I take it that means you will be returning for a second go?” Kurt inquired. The man shrugged,

“I don’t know, honestly. I am just trying to get settled,” he explained. Kurt tilted his head and raised his eyebrow,

“Settled? You just arrive?” 

With a nod, the man continued his story,

“Yeah, just came in yesterday. I’m trying to get my foot in with advertising. Not sure where. I love being creative so I'll take anything at this point.” 

It was then that Kurt began to notice the very subtle accent in the man’s voice. He couldn't place it, however. The fact that the man had never had iced tea did support his story of coming from outside the country. Iced tea was more of an American thing. 

“Where are you coming in from, if I may ask?” Kurt’s voice was dripping with eager curiosity.

After taking another long sip of his tea, he smiled and nodded,

“Yes, of course. Germany.” 

“Oh, my! Well, welcome to New York. I’m Kurt.” he held his hand out for the man who took it without hesitation in a firm grip. The man looked him in the eyes,

“Elias Weber. It is a pleasure, my friend.” 

The pleasantries were interrupted by the more habitual behavior of the Starlight Diner’s clientele. A belligerent customer seated at the other end of the bar slammed his hand angrily and shouted,

“Hey, dude, can I get some damn service over here? Time is money, dumbass!”

Kurt didn’t move at first. He had let go of Elias’ hand and took a step back from the bar. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath prepared him for what was about to come with this jerk. Elias gave him a look of sympathy as Kurt grabbed a menu, pulled out his customer check pad and headed to the other end of the bar. 

The man’s thick eyebrows were furrowed with dissatisfaction as he shooed at Kurt with his beefy hand,

“I don’t need a damn menu, idiot. Just get me the house club sandwich with fries and a diet coke. And make it snappy.” 

Forcing his fake smile, Kurt quickly scribbled the order down and disappeared into the kitchen. The chef looked at him, dumbfounded by his sudden change in demeanor as Kurt clipped the new ticket to the line. Still holding onto the spatula he was using to flip the burgers, he raised his hands and shrugged his shoulders,

“What the hell happened? Did he have a change of heart?” 

Kurt did not even have the mental capacity to come up with a sarcastic remark and just looked daggers at him. He shook his head and balled is hands into fists around his collar,

“Different guy. Just took a giant shit on the experience I was having with Prince Charming. God I hate self-entitled people.” 

The chef saluted him with the spatula, “That’s why I stay back here, mate.” 

He quickly shook out his anger, did a little running in place and then walked back out to deal with the mayhem of one. All he could think about was getting the chore of serving this awful man over with. He didn’t want to make eye contact and he just proceeded to fill a glass with diet coke from the drink station. The muscles in his shoulders and back tensed, indicating his anticipation of more belligerent commentary from the end of the bar. The liquid filling the glass almost felt like a timer counting down to the impending explosion. However, it never came. 

When Kurt turned to face his proverbial adversary, he noticed a change in scenery. Not only was this man sitting quietly at the end of the bar, but he was waiting patiently and smiling at Kurt. What alternate dimension had he walked into? Approaching the counter apprehensively, he set the glass down in front of the man who responded to him with a smile and said,

“Thank you.” 

Kurt almost turned to cement with that comment. What in the hell happened between their first encounter and his trip into the kitchen? He had changed from a fascist dictator to a sweet old granny in no time flat. Kurt just feigned gratitude with a half-hearted smile and slowly backed away. He received no more comments from the customer from hell.

“Are you alright, my friend?” Elias’s voice was laced with concern as Kurt made his way toward him. Kurt decided it was best to just let go of what had just transpired and return to the pleasant experience that was getting to know his new patron. 

“Nope, I was just a bit distracted, that’s all,” he responded. 

“Glad to hear it, my friend. It’s going to be a good night, wouldn’t you say, sir?” Elias raised his glass of iced tea toward the disgruntled man in the corner, giving him a fake toast. The man seemed to flinch in his seat as he too raised his glass toward Elias and gave him a nervous smile. Elias’s eyes drilled into him, as if to be forcing the emotion on him. He appeared to be consuming the drink more out of necessity than pleasure and his actions were very forced. Kurt was somewhat flabbergasted by the display and began to create possible explanations for the behavior. Ultimately, the thoughts became too disturbing and he shook himself back to reality. The most important thing he realized was that he had established Elias as an ally. 

In a blink, three new customers appeared at the counter, eagerly waiting to be fed. Kurt took this as his signal to get back to the reality that was waiting tables and turned to his new friend.

“Well, Elias, it has been a pleasure, but I must default to my primary purpose and help these new customers.” He gave Elias a friendly bow and firmly shook his hand. The kindness was returned tenfold and Kurt could feel it in the man’s return of affection. Elias regarded him with a nod and smile as he said,

“I agree, Kurt. I hope we can continue our conversation, but I understand you have a section to run. Have a great rest of your night if we do not.” 

The emotions that had plagued Kurt’s mind had completely melted away at this point. The exchange with Elias had turned his mood around completely and he knew that he would go home smiling. It had affected him so positively that he had completely forgotten about his worry for his missing friend, Garret. Soon, the details of his friend’s absence would come to light. 

_Thursday:_

A new headline flashed on the screen of Blaine’s phone as he made his way to his playwrights class with Professor Hale. The morning had been a bit stressful, which was manifested in the nervous energy of his boyfriend. Kurt relayed the fact that Garret had not returned any of his text messages and his anxiety followed every move he made. His normally steady hands were shaky and clumsy and his speech was fast and awkward. Blaine recalled having to aid his boyfriend in a grounding exercise in order to lower his heart rate. By the time the two of them separated after the class immediately prior, Kurt had regained his composure and decided to hang out at the Everyday Cafe. Blaine wondered if the current headline would only turn his stomach and reignite the anxiety.

**COUPLE HOSPITALIZED. NEWEST VICTIMS OF STRING OF HATE CRIMES**

He had hoped that, by this time, the authorities would have caught these monsters. The fact that they remained at large only told him that they were smart and experts at avoiding detection. His eyes scanned the article as he found a seat near the back of the small classroom **.** When he stopped on a pair of words, he was happy he had arrived at class early, for his reaction was more dramatic than he expected. When he saw the name Garret Murphy, he dropped his book and covered his mouth, trying to stifle his gasp. The two classmates who accompanied him in the classroom looked on with concern,

“Are you okay, man?” one of them asked. 

Blaine lowered himself into one of the desks before he responded. All he could muster was a glance in his classmate’s direction and a shake of his head. 

“There was another hate crime in the Ridgewood and Bushwick area. It’s the damn die Stärke gang again.” 

The two classmates approached him with interest, and one of them placed a reassuring hand on Blaine’s shoulder. The other rubbernecked, trying to get a look at the text displayed on Blaine’s phone.

“Oh, shit, Garret?? Garret was the latest victim? That’s why he wasn’t in class this week.” the man standing over Blaine’s left shoulder responded to what he had just read. While neither of them were particularly close to one another, they did recognize each other from other classes. All three of them shared the same movements class and apparently regarded Garret with the same amount of respect and admiration. 

“I have to send this to Kurt,” Blaine audibly demonstrated his worry as his comment came out close to a whimper. The man on his left squeezed his shoulder in an attempt to stifle his fear. 

“I know it’s scary, man, but he’s being taken care of. Doesn’t it say he was taken to the hospital and he’s in stable condition?” the man inquired. 

Blaine immediately copied the link and sent it in a text message to Kurt. While he knew this would only cause his anxiety to bubble to the surface, he thought Kurt had a right to know about their friend. He had to stifle tears while he placed his phone on the desk and looked up at his classmate. 

“I know. You’re right, he is doing alright. But it also said that his boyfriend was in critical condition. I just...I can’t…” Blaine looked down at his hands, started rubbing them together nervously. His classmate patiently waited for him to finish his comment, “I can’t imagine what I would do if something happened to Kurt. It would hurt me more than anything those Nazi bastards could do to me. It would destroy me to see his life in danger.” 

The two men had little to say in response. Blaine had presented a perspective neither of them had considered. What would they have done, had they witnessed a loved one coming close to death? The thought made them both shiver. 

The buzz of Blaine’s phone caused his hand to snatch it at lightning speed. 

_ <<We need to talk tonight. No questions asked.>> _

Despite the seriousness of the current situation, Kurt’s response made Blaine chuckle through his tears. His boyfriend was the only person he knew who could make a text come to life. Blaine could almost hear Kurt’s voice in his ear, stern and unwavering. Blaine was certain that this would be one of the longest classes of his life. Every moment, his mind would be consumed with worry. All he could think about was holding his lover in his arms and how long he would have to wait to do so. 

Blaine knew now that the concern he had voiced the first day the story had aired was now all too real. And now, he finally had Kurt on his side. 

********

No words could describe the mayhem going on in Kurt’s mind as he walked into work. The flustered feeling that had taken over him on Monday paled in comparison to his current mental state. He had already been thinking about Garret’s failure to text him back the night before which frayed his nerves. While he was trying to calm himself and savor a hot cup of coffee, he had received the text link from Blaine. His worst fears had been confirmed. Something terrible had happened and that was why Garret had been absent. He just wanted to grab Blaine by the shoulders, shake him and scream, “I told you so!”

If the universe, or god, whatever it was called, allowed any kind of mercy, he hoped it would dish out a healthy portion to him tonight. If his shift was stressful in any capacity, Kurt was sure that he would lose it. 

His distraction was evident in his mannerisms. Not only did he neglect checking himself in the mirror and straightening his hair, his buttons were unevenly done and his shirt was untucked when he walked onto the floor. Sabrina was at her usual position behind the hostess stand greeting the patrons as they arrived. She was caught off guard when Kurt barreled past her to grab his customer ticket folder without so much as a hello. 

“Nice to see you too, Kurt,” she said sarcastically. Kurt was in no way in the mood for attitude and he just ignored her while glancing at the seating chart. His first sigh of relief came after examining his assigned section and realizing he didn’t have to be behind the bar again. Just the simple fact that he was working on the normal floor lifted a lot of his anxiety from his shoulders. He turned to Sabrina sheepishly,

“I’m sorry. Just a bad day.”

Sabrina looked back at him empathetically and patted him on the back. He leaned over and gave her a light kiss on the cheek and then proceeded to his first set of customers. Kurt’s section was on the right side of the restaurant and consisted of about seven booths lining the wall. A family of four sat in the corner booth and patiently waited for Kurt to arrive. He found them to be neither pleasant nor rude, and Kurt was fine with it. Anything that allowed him to continue mindlessly was good enough for him. 

After taking the family’s ticket into the kitchen, he walked back out onto the floor and headed for his next patron. This man, who had his back to Kurt, looked out of place in this section. His fitted grey jacket and slicked back hair suggested higher class. This meant he should have been at the bar, with the rest of the self-entitled CEOs. Kurt mentally prepared himself for verbal abuse as he approached the booth with his pen and pad ready.

“My friend!” the familiar voice resounded in his ears and he felt like he might cry tears of happiness. Elias smiled at him, holding his arms open as if he was about to jump up and hug him. All of the tension in Kurt’s muscles melted away as his shoulders slumped and his jaw dropped,

“Oh my God, Elias!! You have no idea how glad I am to see you!”

Elias tilted his head to the side, displaying his confusion,

“Are you having a bad day, friend?” he inquired. Kurt laughed,

“Are you psychic?” 

Elias feigned a shiver and slapped his hand on the table,

“That would be a scary thing if I were, my dear Kurt,” he responded. They shared a laugh, Kurt’s more out of relief than anything. Before taking his order, he placed his hands on his hips in fake protest,

“So, tell me. Did you get the advertising job? You told me you were looking the last time I saw you.”

Elias’s face beamed as he placed his hands on his chest and nodded at Kurt,

“You have a good memory, friend. I am flattered that you ask.”

“You’re welcome. Now spill the beans, mister.” Kurt held up his customer ticket booklet and pretended to be writing. He didn’t want his boss to realize that he was neglecting his other tables in order to spend more time talking to this man. Now it was up to him to keep up the façade as long as possible. 

“I have had three interviews since Monday. Honestly, I am not sure how I feel about them, but here’s to hoping.” he held up two hands, each with crossed fingers. 

“I love your accent. You said you were from Germany, right?” Elias’s eyes got wide and Kurt panicked momentarily, thinking he may have offended him. 

“Wow, I am amazed that you can even tell, my friend. I have been trying hard to hide it.”

Now it was Kurt’s turn to look confused. He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders,

“Why would you want to hide it?”

Elias got quiet for a moment and looked down at his hands hesitantly. Again, Kurt was afraid he had overstepped. After a few seconds, Elias looked up at him again,

“I think people are quick to pass judgement here. The more I can look or sound like everyone the better my chances of finding a job. You wouldn’t imagine the things said to me when I got off the plane and started exploring the city. Some people sneered, others told me to go back where I came from. Sorry to sound sentimental, Kurt. People can just be so heartless.” 

Kurt looked every which way, making sure his boss wasn’t on the floor. Scanning the other booths revealed that there were no other customers waiting, other than his family of four. They appeared to be plenty occupied with keeping the kids entertained with iPad games, so Kurt saw this as his chance. He slipped into the booth across from Elias, catching him by surprise at first. 

“The ‘being judged for who you are’ thing…? I have experienced that plenty in my life, but for different reasons. I feel your pain.” 

“What could you have possibly been judged for?” Elias inquired and his eyes sent messages of empathy.

Kurt shifted in his seat for a moment, unsure of how open he was comfortable being. In the back of his mind, the recent headlines flashed and warned him to be more reserved about talking about his personal life. He had just met Elias two days ago. He also knew that this could be a moment to do the right thing and stand up against the bullies. He could be the shining light for the person who needed a bit of strength. 

“Well, when one is attracted to people of the same sex, those who aren’t sometimes get scared and don’t know how to take it.”

Elias sat in silence for a moment. His face showed no judgement, but it showed no sympathy either. Kurt remained a statue as he waited for his newest friend to respond. The hustle and bustle of the restaurant faded away and he had tunnel vision on Elias. He felt like he was coming out at McKinley all over again. 

“Thank you for sharing that, my friend.” 

Kurt realized how long he had been holding his breath when he let out a heavy sigh. Elias smirked, reached across the table and patted him on the shoulder. 

“Who is the lucky man?” 

Kurt’s heart went aflutter at the chance of talking about his boyfriend. Any time he got to tell someone about his soulmate, it made him the happiest. His shoulders came up to his neck like he was hugging a teddy bear,

“His name is Blaine. My dark-haired, honey-eyed, sweetheart of a man,” Kurt couldn’t believe how comfortable he was in front of this man as he shook himself back to reality and his eyes got wide, “wow, Elias. I have to tell you, you certainly have a way of making people open up.” When he looked back at his new friend, he had crossed his arms in front of him, his face beaming. He chuckled and shrugged,

“What can I say? Getting people to talk is one of my talents,” with that he gave Kurt another friendly pat on the shoulder and added, “I hope I get to meet this man of yours one day.” 

Kurt nodded, “That you will.”

An angry voice bellowed from behind the bar, making Kurt jump in his seat.

“HUMMEL! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? YOU HAVE CUSTOMERS WAITING SO GET OFF YOUR REAR!”

Elias and Kurt giggled like elementary kids getting caught talking during class. Kurt stood from the booth with his customer ticket booklet and was about to write down Elias’s order when he realized he never actually took it. Elias was already a step ahead of him when he said,

“Same as last time, my friend. Salad and tea with lemon. Thanks for the recommendation, by the way.” 

Kurt smiled and pointed at Elias with his pen, “I knew it. You _are_ psychic.” 

Before he could make the situation worse for himself, Kurt gave Elias one last wave and disappeared into the kitchen. 

********

The dark September evening enveloped Kurt as he exited the Sunlight Diner at exactly eight fifteen. While his ultimate destination was the Bushwick apartment, he had an important stop on the way. After seeing the headline earlier in the day, there was an urgency to increase his and Blaine’s personal security. There was one store he knew of on the way home that sold implements for self protection and he made his way there post haste. His mind wandered to the three hour shift that had helped distract him from his current mental hell. 

The conversation with his newest friend was exactly what he needed.The tension surrounding his last thirty six hours melted away for the entirety of his shift. It surprised him how a complete stranger had been successful in making him open up. Perhaps it was the fact that he was so accustomed to the corrosive comments of the regulars that he had been so taken with Elias. He was the stark contrast that the diner needed. Everything he said came from a place of sincerity and kindness, which was a rarity in this city. He hoped that Elias would frequent the diner and that he would be able to introduce him to Blaine. 

About five blocks from the apartment, Kurt stopped in front of the small sports shop. He hoped that he could find what he was looking for here and that Blaine wouldn’t give him shit for doing what he was about to do. 

Something caught his attention before he reached for the door. His eyes glanced at the brick wall to the right of the entrance. A lump in his throat stifled the whimper that tried to escape. Spray paint stained the beige surface of the stone wall, but it wasn’t the type of artwork that was deserving of praise. 

The image of the punching fist surrounded by chains adorned the outside of the sports shop. Kurt felt his heart nearly jump out of his chest. While he and Blaine knew that this Neo-Nazi gang was creeping ever closer to them, they never thought it would actually make it to their backyard. Seeing the image on the wall just gave Kurt the extra enticement he needed to walk into that store as he disappeared through the door. 

********

Blaine didn’t know what hit him. One moment, he was standing at the stove, about to pour himself some tea, and the next moment he was being spun around by rough hands at nauseating speed. Kurt’s lean arms wrapped tightly around his neck and pulled him close to his body. The sound of weeping met his ears before he had a chance to return the affection. 

“Umm...Kurt?” Blaine’s voice was muffled against his boyfriend’s shoulder. Kurt seemed to have turned to stone and remained silent. The two of them were now engulfed in the awkward silence of the apartment. It remained as such until Blaine started to struggle getting any air on the account of Kurt’s vice grip around him. He tapped his boyfriend’s arm as the dark spots of suffocation appeared in the corners of his vision, “…Kurt...I can’t... breathe…” 

As quickly as he had pulled him into the hug, Kurt backed away, gripping Blaine’s arms tightly. The look on his fiance’s face was one of confusion and asphyxiation. After giving him a second to take a deep breath, Kurt put both of his hands on Blaine’s face,

“Those damned Nazi jerks are in the neighborhood,” his voice trembled. Blaine was surprised,

“What? How do you know?” 

“I saw their damn symbol on the wall of one of the shops a few blocks away. This is serious, Blaine. We need to be more careful…” Blaine pulled away from his boyfriend and waved his hands in front of him to stifle the string of words falling out of Kurt’s mouth,

“Kurt, calm down. I get it. What do you suggest?” 

Without saying a word, Kurt approached the kitchen table where he had set a small plastic bag when he arrived. From this bag materialized two small canisters and two metal keychains adorned with small, flat silver rings. Kurt motioned for Blaine to join him at the table and proceeded to pull out the chair for him. 

A canister and a keychain were placed in Blaine’s hands, almost adamantly. He examined them for a moment, turning them around in his hands. He paid close attention to the label on the canister and let out a snort,

“Pepper spray?” his voice was laced with both disbelief and sarcasm as he looked at Kurt. The expression that was returned was much the opposite. Kurt’s baby blues were more serious now than Blaine had ever seen them. He nodded vigorously,

“Yes. Pepper spray. I want you to keep that with you at all times while walking outside. And this too,” he took the keychain from Blaine and, holding the flat silver ring between his thumb and index finger, pressed down hard. The sound omitted from the tiny device was near deafening and caused both of them to jump. “It’s a personal alarm and I want this in your coat pocket at all times. I’m not playing around anymore.” 

Blaine remained surprisingly calm throughout this entire exchange. It started to ruffle Kurt’s feathers a bit more for he was getting the feeling that Blaine did not share his level of concern. The agonizing scene of Blaine playing around with the two items Kurt had purchased made him want to scream. When Blaine looked up from tinkering with the implements, he flinched at the expression on his boyfriend’s face.

“Okay, Kurt. I get it. Watch, I am putting it in my coat pocket right now.” Blaine stood from his chair, strolled over to his black coat hanging by the door and deposited both items in the left pocket for Kurt to see. When he returned to the table, Kurt stood from his seat, forgetting his own pepper spray and alarm on the table, and took Blaine’s face in his hands. 

“I would die if something happened to you, Blaine. I would be absolutely gutted.” 

Blaine put his hands on top of Kurt's and could see the tears welling up in his lover’s eyes. As the streams stained his cheeks, Blaine’s eyes empathetically followed suit. Seeing Kurt like this killed him. 

“Nothing is going to happen, Kurt. I promise.” 

“Don’t say that, Blaine! You don’t know. Just promise me you will do your best to stay safe.”

His partner nodded, tears now staining his face. “I will always protect you, Kurt. With everything I’ve got. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” 

Kurt pressed his forehead against Blaine’s,

“From now on, on Monday’s I will come to the record store and stay until you are done with work. On Friday’s you will stay with me at the diner. I don’t want either of us walking alone again. No questions asked.” 

“No complaints here.” 

They pulled each other close and stood in silence for a while. Blaine could feel the comforting sensation of Kurt’s hand rubbing circles on his back. It was always his way of saying “It’s okay, I’ve got you and I love you,” without using words. Any time he felt it, he always knew he was safe. Burying his face in the crook of Kurt’s neck, Blaine could feel the emotion bubbling up inside him. Before he knew it, they were both sobbing in each other’s arms. Hugging turned to swaying, and swaying evolved into resting their faces against one another. 

“No matter what happens, Kurt, these Nazi bastards won’t win.”

In an instant, Kurt broke from the hug and, with his hand placed lovingly against the back of Blaine’s neck, pulled his lover into a deep kiss. Their soft lips brushed together and sent tingling sensations through their bodies. Kurt massaged his boyfriend’s mouth in ways he didn’t know he could, feeling the erotic desire as Blaine returned the affection. 

Standing once again enveloped in the silence of the apartment, Kurt and Blaine stayed for several minutes. The fear was evident for the pair, but they knew that in each other’s arms they would be safe. In each other’s arms they felt loved. 

_Monday:_

Red light reflected off the sidewalk from outside. The outline of the words MOSH PIT were slightly discernible within that light. Blaine’s eyes were fixed on it, but not really paying attention to it. It was more of a mindless movement as his fingers slid across the strings of the guitar in his hands. From behind him, he had grabbed one of the several electric instruments that hung on the wall. Their organized placement called to the would-be musicians that entered the establishment. Tonight, Blaine’s task was to make sure each one was tuned and ready for any patron to try. Andy, his boss, always trusted Blaine with the upkeep of the instruments because he trusted his unmatched musical talent. Blaine had the ability to tune the guitars without the assistance of technology which made him an irreplaceable employee. Thankfully, this brought him some very serious job security. It also brought along some unusual perks.

Before the beginning of his shift, Blaine had discussed the recent stories about hate crime violence with Andy. He also mentioned that he and Kurt were hoping to keep each other as safe as possible in light of these events. Since Blane was such a valuable member of his staff, Andy had no problem letting Kurt stay in the break room while Blaine finished off his shift. He understood their desire to keep one another safe,

“Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, Blaine,” he said, patting him on the back. 

As Blaine returned the white Fender to the hook behind him and grabbed the Gibson beside it, he smiled at the words his boss had said. Upon his arrival to New York, Blaine recalled it being overwhelming and stressful. One saving grace had been finding his job at Mosh Pit. Not only was he able to surround himself with music every time he worked, but he had established a very strong relationship with Andy. This had opened his circle of friends to more than just the people he knew from Lima, which Blaine considered very valuable.

The notes that he was plucking out on his current instrument had met his satisfaction. As he raised his gaze to the shelves of sheet music near the middle of the store, he noticed a man standing near the Broadway section looking at him with interest. There wasn’t anything peculiar about him but the look on his face conveyed a keen curiosity for the Gibson that sat on Blaine’s lap. The man did not avert his gaze when he realized that Blaine was paying closer attention to him.

“Interested in Broadway, sir? I think you and I will get along.” 

The nod he gave in return signaled Blaine that he could approach. Keeping the guitar strapped about his shoulders, Blaine held out his hand toward this mysterious visitor and introduced himself. The man smiled, returning the handshake firmly,

“Peter Abel. Pleasure to meet you, Blaine. I see you have a penchant for stringed instruments.” his green eyes beamed in admiration of Blaine and his talent, “I’m afraid I must confess that I was watching you for some time. I am always envious of those who have such innate musical talent. You, my friend, can tune a guitar without a tuner?”

Blaine mockingly shooed at Peter, “Meh, I’m okay, I guess. It’s just something that I spent a lot of time practicing. You could do it too if you spent as much time tinkering with these things as I did. Sometimes I did it when I should have been doing school work, so there’s that.”

Peter snickered and returned to flipping through the carefully organized sheet music. Standing before him, Blaine could now see how much he and Peter had in common when it came to grooming practices. His dark hair was slicked back in a similar fashion, but he brushed it to the left side of his head instead of the right. Although he was devoid of a bowtie, Peter did seem to take an interest in carefully pressed dress shirts and very clean cut pants. The look was finished with a dark fitted vest that enveloped his long, thin torso. 

“So,” Blaine began, as he turned back to the wall and replaced the electric Gibson on its display hook, “what brings you to Mosh Pit, Peter? Are you looking for any particular music?”

“I would say it’s more of a search for inspiration than anything. I do say that you have quite an impressive repertoire here.” 

Peter was successful in piquing Blaine’s interest,

“Inspiration for what, may I ask?” he folded his arms in front of him and leaned in, wanting to catch every detail. Anyone who was remotely interested in Broadway music was already displaying good taste as far as he was concerned. 

“Well, I came in a few months ago and I have been looking for something to get the ideas flowing in my head. You know?” 

Blaine tilted his head, showing his curiosity,

“Just came in from where?” 

“I was in California for a few years. I am a writer, actually. I just got sick of the job out there. I was in a corner office writing the same boring shit day in and day out. My hope was to write stage reviews, but there isn’t much stage out there. It’s basically Hollywood overshadowing the entire arts scene,” as Peter spoke, Blaine was certain he could hear a bit of heartache in his voice, “So, I packed up and moved out here. Everyone knows that the NYC arts scene is unmatched, so I tried to get my foot in the door at the Times.”

Blaine’s eyes practically jumped out of his skull. His face beamed and his jaw dropped,

“You got a job at the NYT right when you got here? Damn!”

Peter shrugged, showing a bit of humility,

“I guess my sob story was convincing enough. But the reviewing was only the first part of it. My real dream is to write a Broadway show. I want to see my work being interpreted on that stage some day.” 

“You will, Peter. I think the fact that you got into NYT so quickly is a clear indication of your determination. So, any particular genre you are looking at? For this play, I mean?” 

Peter’s eyes looked toward the ceiling, searching for a response. Blaine looked down at the collection of sheet music that Peter had been browsing and saw _Fiddler on the Roof_ in his hand. This gave him a slight indication of what he was about to say.

“My ultimate goal is to create a musical, but I would have to do it with a partner.”

“Why is that?” Blaine inquired. Peter shook his head and looked down at the floor. He then met Blaine’s gaze with shame in his eyes,

“I can’t play an instrument to save my life. I have always wanted to, though.” 

This confession made Blaine more excited than a kid in a candy shop. He spread his arms wide and his face beamed with excitement. With his hands on Peter’s arms, he shook him playfully,

“You are in the right place, my friend. Come with me.”

Returning the sheet music to its rightful place, Peter hesitantly followed the enthusiastic musician to the back corner of the store. Blaine took a seat at the majestic baby grand displayed there and began playing a few bars. With his hands in his pockets, Peter approached the instrument apprehensively. His body language suggested that he was afraid the piano would pounce on him. Blaine laughed, stood from the piano bench and beckoned his new friend to sit next to him. 

“It’s time for your first mini lesson, Peter. And your teacher will be, well, me.” 

Blaine could feel the tension in Peter’s body as he took a seat beside him on the bench. He found it somewhat endearing that a man with such an indomitable will was so reserved with some ivory keys. In his usual charismatic way, Blaine began to serenade this man with one of the many songs in his repertoire. The first few chords of “Teenage Dream” by Katy Perry filled the room and the remaining customers and employees erupted in a collective cheer. Peter watched in awe while Blaine demonstrated his passion and expertise in the form of a popular pop song. 

“How is it that you have such talent?” 

Blaine shrugged,

“I don’t know. I guess I have always just been obsessed with it. I was in the Glee Club in high school. That’s where I met the love of my life.” 

“And would that love be music, by chance?” Peter asked. Blaine chuckled and shook his head,

“Well, I suppose that is one of the loves of my life. His name is Kurt. I actually followed him here to New York so we could go to NYADA together. You could say he has a certain knack for music as well. This is actually the first song I sang to him on the day we met. It holds a very special place in my heart.” 

Peter smiled and nodded. He patted Blaine’s back amicably,

“It’s quite the love story, my friend. Now, show me how to be just like you. I must learn.” 

After sharing a moment of laughter, Blaine gave Peter a short introduction of the music scale and how it related to the ivories before him. Before he knew it, Peter was engrossed in the lesson with unbridled concentration.

As soon as Kurt heard the introduction to that special song, he immediately closed his book, stood from his chair and walked out onto the sales floor. He didn’t want to bother Blaine while he was working, so he just pretended to be another patron while he took in the beautiful melody of his boyfriend’s voice. A short walk to the shelves of sheet music placed him in the middle of the store where the sound reverberated off the walls. 

Kurt closed his eyes and brought himself back to that day at Dalton. He remembered being so nervous and in need of companionship. All he saw was a sea of unknown faces swimming past his little raft of loneliness. The palpitations were real, until he saw a sign of hope swoop past him. Blaine had been a beacon in the darkness. He had responded to Kurt’s whimpering plea for assistance eagerly and willing to help. Blaine was the one positive constant for the rest of the days that followed.

And that brought him to today. His eyes took in the scene once more as he turned to the piano again. The room erupted in applause at the conclusion of Blaine’s song. He waved sheepishly to the crowd, giving his humble thank you in response. It was then that he and Kurt met eyes and Blaine’s face lit up. Kurt saw him elbow the man sitting next to him and point to him from afar. The mysterious patron to his right nodded with a sudden glimmer of recognition in his eyes and waved. Kurt responded with a friendly wiggle of his fingers. Blaine must have been talking about him again. He couldn't help but love it when his boyfriend gushed about him to other men.

In that moment, it wasn’t just the memory of meeting this man that brought Kurt so much joy, it was the fact that he too was so happy. Their dream of being together and doing what they loved most was beginning to materialize. And Kurt couldn’t have asked for anything better. 

********

After a short introduction to the piano, Peter and Blaine had spent nearly an hour sharing their interest in Broadway musicals. Much to Blaine’s surprise, he and Peter had a lot of the same favorites when it came to theater shows. By the time Blaine’s shift had ended, he had not only gained a few more hours of pay, but a new friend. He hoped that he would see Peter again soon. It was always more enjoyable when the patrons had something in common with him. 

“So, who was that man at the piano?”

Kurt and Blaine were sitting comfortably on their couch, enjoying each other’s warmth. They both fit perfectly, sitting alongside one another, their limbs entangled _._ Other than the dim flicker of candle light, the apartment remained dark. Artie had been held up at work for the last few days and had only been able to communicate via text. He sent his regrets and mentioned that he did want to meet with them sometime soon, 

_ <<...my boss is just on my ass about finishing this project. Sorry, guys. Love.>> _

Kurt and Blaine weren’t particularly sad that they got to spend more quality time with each other. They loved it when they could enjoy some of their favorite pastimes with no interruptions. Blaine squeezed Kurt’s arm that was draped over his chest,

“Oh, he was a new customer. His name is Peter. He said he came in from California a few months ago and was looking for a job reviewing Broadway shows. I was teaching him a short piano lesson.” 

Kurt tilted his head so it rested against Blaine’s temple. He felt like the big brother, shielding the small child from danger. Blaine fit so perfectly in his arms. He returned the affectionate squeeze on his lover’s arm and smiled,

“I love watching you play. And you looked so happy teaching him.”

Blaine moved in closer, practically burying himself in Kurt’s form. He turned his head to the right and placed a soft kiss on Kurt’s jawline. 

“I just hope he enjoyed himself.” 

Kurt’s gaze met those honey-colored eyes as the corner of his mouth curled into a smile,

“I’m sure he loved it.”

Blaine’s eyes were getting heavy. Kurt could see that he struggled to stay awake as his blinking appeared deliberate and forced. Kurt stroked the younger one’s cheek, urging him to close his eyes and rest. Blaine obliged as his head rested against Kurt’s chest and his eyes disappeared behind heavily lashed lids. 

“I wouldn’t trade this for anything else,” Kurt whispered into his lover’s ear and pulled him tightly against his body. If he was hurting him, Blaine did not say so. He seemed to have nodded off rather quickly. His face was still and peaceful as the light from the candles danced across his smooth skin. Kurt pressed his lips against Blaine’s forehead and remained there for several moments. The sleeping man did not stir. He simply smiled in his sleep, knowing he wouldn’t trade it for anything else. 

_Tuesday:_

Like clockwork, Blaine was waiting patiently at the entrance to the Starlight Diner to walk home with Kurt. While they had not received any recent alerts of stories regarding the recent hate crimes, they still exercised caution. Not only did it make them feel safer, but it gave them an excuse to be together. 

The eight o-clock crowd was sparse on a Tuesday night. Very few of the tables were full, and the wait staff had dwindled down to a select few. He spotted Kurt exiting the kitchen, now adorned in his stylish fall coat. Before reaching the door, he stopped at a booth halfway between Blaine and the kitchen and placed a hand on the shoulder of the customer seated there. The man looked well put together with his thin framed glasses and fitted sport coat. After a short conversation, he patted Kurt’s hand and smiled. His eyes followed Kurt while he made his way to the door. 

“Is that Elias?” he asked. Kurt was caught off guard for a second, forgetting that he had been on full display only moments before. He chuckled nervously,

“Oh, yeah, that’s him.” They both turned to face Elias who acknowledged them with a friendly salute. Blaine smiled and waved back. He interlaced his fingers with Kurt and the two of them exited the restaurant, being greeted by a cool evening breeze. They synchronously turned up their coat collars and began their trek in the direction of the apartment. 

“I want to meet him someday,” Blaine continued the conversation. Kurt nodded,

“Oh, yeah, I invited him to join us during our lunch break on Thursday. Are you cool with that? You know, he wants to meet you too.” 

Blaine squeezed Kurt’s hand and pulled him in until their noses were touching,

“Oh he does, does he? And why is that?” His voice was mockingly scolding of his boyfriend, who responded in kind,

“Because the only thing I tell him about is how amazing and handsome you are.” His eyebrows did a little dance and their lips brushed together. Blaine raised an eyebrow,

“You sure as hell better have told him that,” after another stolen kiss Blaine said, “and I accept your invitation.” 

“You had better, bitch.” 

“I love it when you talk dirty,” Blaine whispered after he once again pulled his boyfriend’s ear close to his mouth. They had both had the intention of sharing another kiss, when their moment of passion was interrupted by a cacophony of hurtful words from across the street. While they weren’t sure whether the words were directed at them, they moved closer together and increased their gaits. 

“Hey, you faggots, get a room! No one wants to see that shit!” 

Kurt risked a look behind him and was met with a tall, slender man holding his arms above his head. The streetlights did not help in discerning any more of his features. Kurt placed his hand on Blaine’s back and urged him to move faster. The man continued his belligerent shouting,

“Why don’t you just get the hell out of town, you fairies. You little pansies!”

Kurt’s heart was pounding against his sternum. He could feel a cold layer of sweat on his brow as the images before him tunneled. The adrenaline was beginning to course through his veins as his body moved into survival mode. It was then that the real fear began to sink in and he leaned toward Blaine,

“I love you,” he whispered, wondering if this may be the moment of truth. Blaine closed his eyes, sending a message of understanding to Kurt as they squeezed each other's hands again. 

“HEY! I SAID KNOCK IT OFF, FAGS!”

Their ears were plagued with the sound of heavy footsteps approaching from the left. Blaine’s eyes scanned the sidewalk and he could see the concerned faces of bystanders not really knowing what to do. He was appreciative of their concern, but that wasn’t what he or Kurt needed at that moment. They needed someone to come forward and defend them.

They had to move quickly if they had any chance for escape. Kurt was aware that it was two of them against one of him, but he appeared to be much larger and athletic than both of them. He had a feeling this man would have the upper hand were they to get into a physical altercation. As if their minds were linked, both of them burst into a run. Blaine turned back and could see that he and Kurt had gained about half a block in distance between them and their adversary. 

“Let’s take the shortcut. I think the next alley cuts through. We might be able to get to the apartment undetected if we go that way,” Kurt said in between gasps. Blaine acknowledged him with a nod as the two of them went from a run to a sprint. Their legs burned, their lungs burned and their minds were clouded by the fear of being killed by a complete stranger. Never before had they been tested so physically and mentally in their lives.

The alley was only a few feet ahead of them. Blaine put his hand on Kurt’s back and pushed him forward, giving him the lead. As they rounded the corner to the right, Blaine could hear the angry shouts from behind and he knew the man was almost on him. By the time they were halfway down the alley, he could almost feel a breath on the back of his neck. 

One second, Blaine was aware of his boyfriend running ahead of him. The next thing he knew, his hands slid across the pavement and a heavy weight plastered him to the ground. The man’s breath tickled his ear as he spat more hateful words,

“Thought you could get away, huh? Not this time.”

Blaine closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as he waited for the first blow. To his surprise, he heard Kurt scream after him,

“Get the fuck off of him, you asshole!”

There was a short tussle. Blaine could hear Kurt struggling with their assailant until he too was thrown to the ground with a painful grunt. A powerful fist grabbed a handful of Blaine’s hair and yanked him to his feet. It was only seconds later that his back was shoved up against the wall of one of the buildings and he was forced to face this man. His piercing blue eyes, framed by a chiseled and pale face, looked almost animalistic. With lips pursed, the man backed away and with a powerful swing, landed a fist on Blaine’s face. The force of the abuse threw him to the ground again. This time, he covered his head with his arms and anticipated another painful blow to his body. Kurt’s protests went unheeded and he knew that this may be the last time he heard his boyfriend’s voice. 

“Hey! What is going on here?!” a familiar voice sounded from the end of the alley where Kurt and Blaine had entered. The man was caught off guard as he turned toward the person who was interrupting his fun. Blaine took this as an opportunity and, reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out the canister of pepper spray. When the attacker showed little to no interest in the individual who had stopped him, he turned back toward his prey only to receive a generous amount of the corrosive aerosol in his eyes. 

Screams of agony echoed off the walls of the alley as the man slouched over, gripping his face. He stood there for a long time, trying to fathom what had just happened. Blaine turned his attention to the person who had saved his life. 

“Peter!” While he was grateful to see his new friend, he never thought this would be how they met again. Peter moved toward him in haste as Blaine was oblivious to the fact that his attacker was moving in to hurt him once more. Kurt shouted from behind him,

“NO! BLAINE, LOOK OUT!” 

Peter intervened at lightning speed. Crouching down, he sprinted up to the man and buried his shoulder into his gut, causing him to tumble to the ground. In shock, the man got back to his feet and stared at Peter through squinted eyes. To Kurt and Blaine’s surprise, Peter remained calm and showed no indication that he was going to entice this man to fight. The assailant grunted like a bull and advanced on his new foe without hesitation. Peter stepped aside, stuck out his foot and caught the man’s ankle with the toe of his shoe. After somersaulting on the pavement, he stood clumsily and disappeared from the alley, not willing to endure any more humiliation. 

Kurt practically fainted when he realized that he and his betrothed were once again safe. After painfully making it to his feet, he approached Blaine who held his face with a grimace. No words were exchanged. They just held each other like it was their last chance. 

“Are you alright?” Kurt’s voice broke, his words coming out in a painful whimper. Blaine nodded, his face rubbing against the taller one’s cheek as he did so. He tightened his grip on Kurt’s shoulders and he could feel the tears stinging his eyes. For a moment, he saw his life flash before his eyes. When his body hit the pavement, he was certain that was it. The fact that he could hold his loved one in his arms at that moment overwhelmed him. He had never been so happy to be alive. 

“Oh my God, Peter.” Blaine pulled away from the hug, forgetting that they had both just been saved by a good Samaritan. He and Kurt approached him and pulled him into their hug, weeping tears of gratitude to their new friend. 

“Are you alright, gentlemen?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. He patted the both of them on the back and looked them in the eyes, trying to get some kind of response. He was answered with nods and Kurt spoke up,

“Thank you for saving us. How can we ever repay you?” 

Peter shook his head,

“No need. I heard the shouting from over there,” he indicated with a point of his finger in the direction from which he had appeared, “and I came running. I wasn’t really sure what was happening or who was involved, but I am glad I came. I would have been so heartbroken had I missed the opportunity to help a friend.” 

The three men stood in the darkness of the alley for a moment, collecting their thoughts and catching their breath. Blaine rubbed the side of his face again and moved his jaw back and forth as if to make sure it was still attached. He made sure to hold on to his fiance with the other hand. There was no way he was letting go of him after what he had just experienced. 

Amidst all of the emotion, Kurt let out a chuckle and turned to Peter,

“I’m sorry that this is the way we have to officially meet. I am Kurt,” he held his hand out to Peter who took it without hesitation and returned the gesture firmly, “and let me just say that I am so grateful to know you right now.” 

Peter scoffed playfully and shrugged,

“It’s okay, my friend. Don’t feel guilty or like you have to repay me. I'm just glad I was able to do something to help. Can I walk you two home, or at least to the end of the block?” 

Kurt and Blaine, while grateful for his help, declined. They mentioned wanting to have a heart to heart on their way back home and said their goodbyes. Peter turned back toward the street after giving Blaine and Kurt one more friendly pat on the shoulder, telling them to take it easy for the rest of the night. They both couldn't agree more, as they pulled each other close and continued their journey to the apartment. Their senses were on high alert for the rest of the walk. The pair was able to make it home successfully, still holding each other close. 

_Wednesday_ :

A fast tempo met his ears as Blaine found himself once again at Mosh Pit, trying to assist a customer with a new guitar. While the overall atmosphere of the place was positive, it could not bring Blaine out of his depressed stupor. Being surrounded by music did not bring him his usual dose of joy. It was clouded by the ugly, terrifying memories.

The prior evening’s events replayed in Blaine’s mind. Every once and awhile, one of his coworkers had to wave his or her hand in front of him to bring him back to the present day. He found himself saying “Sorry, just didn’t get enough sleep last night,” which was answered by concerned glances. Faking a smile for much longer would bring him to his wits end. He wanted to go home. He wanted to hold Kurt in his arms because at least he knew he was safe there. 

“So, do you recommend that I go with the Gibson or the Fender?” a young female customer looked at Blaine expectantly. His mind wandered as he gave her a robotic response,

“The Gibson is your best bet,” was all he could muster. Thankfully, this woman wasn’t looking for an overly bubbly attendant and she went about her business, satisfied with that answer. His ears were tuned to the sound of the door opening and closing and he groaned inside. Why couldn’t all of these people just leave so he could stop having to talk to them? The fact that he didn’t want to interact with another human was another indication of how much the previous night had affected him. 

“Blaine?” Peter’s voice came from behind and he swung around at lightning speed. Before any more words could be spoken, Blaine walked right up to him and pulled him into a tight hug. Peter was caught by surprise and his eyes scanned the store awkwardly. People looked on in amusement at the public display of affection, but did not seem to dwell on it. With a gentle pat on Blaine’s back, Peter cued him in to the fact that he was holding him in the middle of the store. He flinched at this, bringing himself back to the present moment. 

“Peter, I think Kurt and I would be dead if you hadn’t helped us last night. I can’t tell you how grateful we both are for what you did. I…” Peter held his hands up, silencing his friend. 

“While your gratitude is appreciated, it is unneeded. I'm just glad to see you here, Blaine. I was afraid you had been traumatized by what happened last night.” 

The sight of his new friend had changed his demeanor and he answered with a genuine smile,

“It did traumatize me, but seeing you makes me feel better, because it will help me forget about it,” with that comment, Blaine quickly changed the subject, “What brings you here, Peter?” 

“Well, I took your advice from last time and I want to invest in a keyboard for my apartment. What do you recommend?” 

Beckoning Peter to follow him, Blaine turned toward the wall opposite the guitars where a plethora of keyboard options were displayed. The expression on Peter’s face suggested he was overwhelmed by the choices. So many of them had an abundance of fancy features that he didn’t know where to start. Blaine could sense his confusion and started walking him through the differences in products. 

Halfway through his mantra, a funny feeling manifested in the pit of Blaine’s stomach. The details of last night’s encounter replayed in his mind. One thing stood out. He and Kurt were not particularly close to the Mosh Pit and yet Peter had been there at a moment’s notice. The store was considered part of the Bushwick area, but it was definitely on the outskirts. Was it coincidence? What was Peter doing in that part of the neighborhood? Peter seemed to catch on to Blaine’s rumination,

“Is everything alright? You look like something’s bugging you,” he wondered.

Blaine squinted his eyes and glanced back at his friend. Peter suddenly became uncomfortable, feeling like Blaine was scrutinizing him and he shifted awkwardly on his feet. 

“What were you doing in that part of town?” The space between them filled with the din of the store. Peter looked somewhat guilty at hearing that question and made no move to respond. Blaine tried to lighten the mood and leaned in closer, “Were you stalking me?” He chuckled and saw the tension melt from Peter’s shoulders. 

“No, I was at a sports store not too far from there. I noticed something spray painted on the wall and I went in to ask the store owner about that. He told me about some horrific crimes that have been on the news lately. So sad.” 

Blaine’s face went chalk white,

“You saw the die Stärke symbol? And, wait a minute, you haven’t heard about the hate crimes?!” he was bewildered by the fact that his friend was ignorant to the latest news. Peter’s nose scrunched up, displaying a disconnection,

“I don’t really watch the news, Blaine. And...die Stärke? What the hell is that?” 

Blaine scoffed,

“Obviously this person who filled you in did not give you all the details. It’s the name of the Neo-Nazi gang that is targeting the LGBTQI community. A part of me wonders if we encountered one of them last night what with the nasty comments that guy made.” 

A shiver went up and down Peter’s spine. He shook his head in disgust,

“One would have thought those hateful ideas died off a long time ago. I guess not, huh?” 

Blaine nodded in agreement and turned back to the keyboards, hoping to convince Peter to purchase one of the more fancy ones. He knew he was possibly projecting his own wishes upon him because he really wanted it in his own apartment. The sale was interrupted by a friendly slap on the back from his friend. Blaine glanced back at him, slightly confused.

“Now that I know they were targeting your particular community, I’m really glad that I was there, Blaine. I mean that sincerely.” 

They stared at each other for a while. Blaine could hardly believe this man. How could he be so incredibly kind after just meeting someone? He had placed himself in danger last night to protect him and Kurt. He never would have even begged someone to do that for them and here he had gone and done it without provocation. 

“The feeling is mutual. For me and Kurt. Now, let’s get back to keyboards.” 

_Thursday:_

It was going to be a normal Thursday and they were determined to keep it that way. The morning routine had gone without a hitch. The bed was made, the wardrobe chosen, bodies washed, hair straightened and breakfast eaten. Kurt and Blaine were now walking hand in hand to the end of the block. Everything was in its rightful place. They had witnessed no harbingers in the form of broken toothbrushes or spilled milk. And now the image of the coffee stand was growing larger as they approached. Then the anvil fell on them. 

Ignacio was not his normal bubbly self this morning. Typically, he was cheering at the top of his lungs when he saw them, praising their adorable relationship with kisses and a coo of delight. This morning his appearance could only be described as frazzled. The tension was evident in his body as his movements came across as rigid. 

The couple approached the counter nervously, trying to distract Ignacio with a laugh and a friendly hello.

“Ignacio, how are you this morning?” Blaine’s face beamed. Ignacio didn’t return the happiness. Kurt and Blaine exchanged a worried glance. After a shrug of their shoulders, they turned back to their barista friend. He walked over to them and leaned on the counter, supporting himself on his elbows. After a heavy sigh, Kurt started to panic. There it was. There was their harbinger of doom. The rest of the day was ruined. 

“Amigos,” only one word filled the silence for a few minutes. Ignacio looked like he was trying to muster up the energy to continue, “I am worried about you. The things going on in this barrio are scary.” 

Blaine reached across the counter and placed his hand over Ignacio’s. He returned the gesture by placing his other hand on top of Blaine’s. That’s when he and Kurt saw the tears fall from his face.

“What’s wrong?” 

After a sniffle and a quick rub of his eyes, Ignacio turned around and collected two coffee cups from his inventory. WIthout a word, he filled the cups with hot coffee and returned to his friends. They waited patiently outside the booth until the cups materialized before them. They flinched in surprise as their barista friend placed a hand on the side of each of their faces. He looked at them lovingly,

“There was another hate crime. It was really bad, amigos.”

Kurt and Blaine looked shocked. They had made an effort to avoid the news this morning, for fear it would taint their good luck. Unfortunately, they were unable to avoid it completely. Ignacio continued,

“These Nazi cabrones. They killed these two women in their own home. Just because they loved each other. No sense. I was hoping that with the last crime, these cabrones were maybe lightening up and leaving people alive. Not true. And what’s worse...it happened over there,” his gaze focused on something behind Kurt and Blaine. They turned around and looked at the apartment complex on the other side of the street. Their hearts skipped a beat as they were faced with the horrible symbol of the die Stärke gang stamped across the front door. They were officially surrounded by these hateful people. Being careful took on a whole new meaning from that point on. 

“Please be careful, amigos. I am really worried about you. I have always admired the love you have for one another, but I don’t want you to get killed because of it. Just stay safe, okay?” 

The concern in Ignacio’s voice was endearing. Blaine and Kurt leaned over the counter and pulled him into a tight hug. 

“Thank you, Ignacio. We will be careful.”

Blaine reached into his pocket to get the money for the coffee when the barista stopped him,

“It’s on me today. Hasta luego.” he blew the two boys a kiss and then disappeared to the other side of the counter to help another customer. 

Walking hand in hand, the pair made their way to the subway station. At first, they walked in silence, not certain what they could say that would improve the situation. Something had to be said, though.

“Did you hear from Garret,” Blaine asked. Kurt just shook his head vigorously. He squeezed his lover’s hand nervously. 

“We should move out,” he said suddenly, “they are only getting closer and we are tempting fate.” 

Blaine stopped abruptly with both of his hands gripping Kurt’s arms. He almost wanted to shake some sense into him,

“I know they are getting closer and I know we may be tempting fate, but remember what you said to me. If we give in and run with our tails between our legs then they win. Let’s show them that we aren’t scared.”

Kurt’s eyes gleamed as the tears spilled over and stained his cheeks. Blaine pulled him into a hug and kissed him on the cheek. They held each other for a moment and regained their composure. Kurt’s breathing levelled out and he backed away from his boyfriend, taking in every detail of his appearance. After a moment he looked Blaine in the eye and gushed,

“Don’t ever change, okay?” 

Blaine smirked, “Never.” 

They took each other’s hands once again and disappeared down the stairs to the train. 

********

The familiar scent of brewing coffee brought a sense of relief to both Blaine and Kurt as they entered the Everyday Cafe. Blaine was eager to meet Elias after hearing Kurt gush about how lovely he was. In fact, he was almost jealous of the competition. If this man was as charming and wonderful as Kurt claimed, he may have to up his game.

The cafe was busier than usual today and their normal booth was occupied. This irked Kurt a little more than he wanted to admit. 

“My friend!” the familiar voice bellowed from their right as they both turned their gaze in that direction. Kurt’s face lit up when he saw Elias sitting at a table against the wall opposite the picture window. Blaine nudged him,

“Go ahead and I’ll put our order in and come over.” 

Kurt hurried over to the table and greeted Elias with a tight hug. The softness of his friend’s green sweater enveloped him as he affectionately rubbed his back. Elias made a sound of delight in Kurt’s ear as they broke from the hug and took their seats. Elias looked around him,

“Finally we get to meet each other at a place you don’t have to work, right?” he smiled. 

Kurt nodded and looked toward the ceiling,

“Oh my God, I know! And I can finally introduce you to my soulmate.” 

As if he heard them talking about him, Blaine materialized next to the table with the plastic placard. He set it down next to the one that already occupied the wooden surface and turned to Kurt,

“Just wanted to let you know that Sam texted me again. He said he should be in next Saturday.” 

Kurt gave him a playful pat, sticking out his bottom lip,

“Awww, no more fun nights? Damn.” 

Blaine snickered and then turned to the tall bespeckled man sitting across the table from his fiance. He held his hand out as Elias stood from his chair. Before he knew what hit him, the man wrapped his arms around him and hugged him. Blaine wasn’t accustomed to this type of greeting from a stranger, but he just went with it.

“You must be the amazing Blaine.” Elias said as they faced each other. Blaine chuckled and, with wide eyes, turned to his man,

“Oh, I’m amazing, huh? I guess I should say thank you.” 

Kurt winked at him and mouthed, “I love you.”

When all three of them were seated around the table, Elias inquired about the comment Blaine had made upon his arrival from the counter,

“So, do you mind me asking who Sam is?” 

Normally Blaine would have been a bit taken aback by the slight rudeness, but since he was a friend of Kurt’s, he decided to just let it go. 

“He’s our roommate. He’s a professional model and he’s been out of town for the last three weeks at a photoshoot. Which sadly means Kurt and I won’t have the apartment to ourselves anymore. We love Sam, but the ‘us’ time is very special.” 

Kurt grabbed his hand and kissed it lovingly. Elias just sat and watched them interact. He was almost mesmerized by their affection for one another. Never had he seen two people so incredibly devoted to their relationship. He almost felt jealous looking at him, like he was spying on them. Despite the affection, he could tell something was slightly off about them.

“Kurt, if I may ask, have you been a little tense today?” 

Without hesitation, he nodded and leaned back comfortably in his chair. 

“Yeah, Blaine and I are just a little concerned about the recent events. Have you heard about the hate crimes? The ones about the Neo-Nazi gang?”

Elias changed into a completely different person. To Kurt and Blaine’s surprise, he slammed his hand on the table angrily as his body went completely rigid. Some people nearby looked on curiously.

“Nazi trash!” he shouted. Turning to the side, he appeared to spit on the floor before turning back to his company. Kurt and Blaine looked like deer in the headlights. The sudden change of character almost made Kurt uncomfortable. Even though he had only known the man for a few days, this was a behavior that seemed completely out of character for him. He was the first to break the silence,

“Are you okay?” 

After a moment of sitting with his arms crossed in front of him, almost like a pouting child, Elias leaned forward. Looking at his two friends, he realized that his outburst had made them uncomfortable, which he did not want,

“I’m sorry, my friends, but this is something that I take personally. I am from Germany and those Nazi assholes have completely tainted our country. Remember when I said I was trying to hide my accent? One of the things people would rub in my face was that I came from Nazi country. It pisses me off. They don’t speak for all of us.” 

Kurt reached across the table and patted his hand lovingly. Blaine did the same.

“I’m sorry people are being nasty to you. Believe me, we know how it feels. Just know that you have friends in the two of us,” Kurt explained. 

Elias appeared to loosen up a bit at that comment as he leaned back in his chair and unfolded his arms. Blaine was hesitant to say anything. There was something off about this man and he couldn’t put his finger on it. The sudden outburst gave him slightly bad vibes. What bothered him was that he wanted to trust this man, but his gut just told him not to. 

“Anyway, Kurt and I have just been extra cautious lately, that’s all. We are a little concerned about our safety, so we are trying to make sure we are together as much as possible when we go out.” 

Elias pointed at Blaine as if to be agreeing with him,

“You two are being wise. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you.” 

Their conversation was interrupted momentarily by the wait staff of the cafe. Three plates of salad and three cups of iced tea were deposited on the table. After removing the plastic placards and thanking them for their business, the two waitresses returned to the order counter. All three of them dug into their salads ravenously, momentarily disregarding the crowd of hungry patrons at the surrounding tables. They remained silent for a moment as the food became more important. 

Kurt wanted the meeting to go in a positive direction. He refused to allow them to go in silence for the rest of the meal. 

“So, how is the new job, Elias? You told me earlier this week that you had interviewed at three different places, right?” 

Elias didn’t appear excited or upset when he responded with a nod. He washed down his bite of salad with a swig of iced tea.   
“Yes, I interviewed, but I am still waiting to hear anything.” 

After swallowing his latest forkful, Blaine inquired,

“How are you getting by? Kurt said you came in from Germany recently, do you have anything to hold you over until you can get a job?”

From behind the order counter, a glass hit the floor and shattered. It sended a high pitched sound echoing through the cafe that made Blaine and Kurt jump in their seats. They remained there for a few moments with their eyes closed, concentrating on their breathing. Without even looking, they interlaced their fingers under the table. Kurt massaged the skin on his lover’s hand in a soothing gesture. They were able to help each other regain composure and finally opened their eyes. Elias’s expression had changed yet again, this time to a worried furrow in his brow. His eyes danced back and forth between Kurt and Blaine’s as he wondered aloud,

“Are you okay, my friends? You looked like someone had just held a knife to your throats.” 

Blaine just looked at the floor, unable to think of a response. Elias turned to Kurt for an explanation.

“We were attacked a couple of nights ago on our way home from work. Blaine got tackled and punched by some guy that was spitting gay slurs at us. So, sorry, but we are a little on edge right now.” 

Elias set his fork on the edge of his plate and leaned back in his chair. His eyes searched his two friends, moving back and forth between their faces once more. His expression hinted at a need to do something, but knowing there really wasn’t much he could do. Kurt sensed a hint of aggravation in Elias’s mannerisms.

“Was it...the gang?” he asked in a whisper, hoping it would soften the blow. Both men shook their heads,

“We don’t think so. He was just some drunk, belligerent bigot with his sights set on us.” 

“Well I am very sorry you had to experience that, my friends,” he grabbed his glass of iced tea and held it up in front of them, “here’s to better days ahead,” he smiled, trying to lift some of the tension. Kurt and Blaine smirked and, lifting their glasses, repeated the toast and tapped them together. 

After a quick sip of their teas, Elias returned to Blaine’s previous question,

“To respond to your inquiry, Blaine, I have some funds saved up that should last me about six months. I’m just hoping to get a response on the job within the week. I appreciate your concern.”

“No problem. Just looking out for the person who’s looking out for my man.” 

The rest of the lunch progressed with friendly conversation about everything from school, to weekend pastimes to what they liked on their pizza. Despite the cheerfulness that surrounded them, Blaine still had this feeling in the pit of his stomach about this man. What bothered him more is that he couldn't figure out why. He was extremely friendly and only spoke of Kurt and Blaine with the utmost kindness. He tried to stifle the negative thoughts, but they always seemed to come back to haunt him. Was it the way he dressed? Was there a nervous tick that he was subconsciously picking up on? Blaine couldn’t put his finger on it. 

After about an hour, Kurt and Blaine regretfully had to head back to class. Elias was very understanding and extended gratitude for inviting him to join them for lunch. As they made their way out the door and onto the sidewalk, they stopped to exchange their final goodbyes.

“I hope to see you at the diner again shortly.” he said with a smile. Kurt scoffed and rolled his eyes,

“My God, Elias, you should try to find a place with much better food. Aren’t you sick of Starlight by now?” 

Elias placed his hand on Kurt’s shoulder and shook his head,

“The food is fine, my friend. I come for your company. You’ve been the beacon of hope for me in the last couple of weeks and I couldn't be more grateful.”

Kurt’s jaw dropped and he tilted his head to the side. Blaine followed suit as they both cooed,

“Awww, you are so sweet!” 

With that, they each exchanged a quick hug and went their separate ways. As Blaine and Kurt approached the NYADA campus, Kurt could feel his phone vibrating in his coat pocket. After removing it and swiping his finger across the screen, he stopped dead in his tracks. Thankfully they were standing at the corner of the street and the crosswalk had not yet signaled them to move. Blaine was suddenly aware of his boyfriend’s exasperated expression and he furrowed his brow with concern.

“What’s wrong?”

Kurt didn’t answer, and he just covered his mouth in what looked like a mixture of relief and incredulity. Displayed on the screen was a text...from Garret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW! This one took me awhile! The next couple of chapters will be a bit shorter.


	4. Baby, It's Cold Outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt and Blaine receive communication from their classmate, Garret. He requests that they come see him as he has been released from the hospital and is now convalescing in a safe location. The conversation reveals some very vivid and traumatizing experiences endured by their friend. 
> 
> Warning:  
> Depictions of torture and abuse. Cussing and implied homophobia. 
> 
> *Language notes:  
> sünde = sin/sinner

Finally they had made it to Saturday. The lazy, carefree weekend was the reward they needed after enduring the five previous days of stress. The assault had only been the cherry on top of the traumatic cake. Usually the Saturday sun would wake them from their slumber sometime around ten in the morning. However, Blaine and Kurt had found themselves wide awake at the seven o’clock hour, their minds racing. 

They lay in the bed facing one another, stroking each other’s bodies affectionately. Blaine's fingers slid gently over the skin of Kurt’s arm, causing him to shiver with delight. He returned the gesture by softly massaging Blaine’s lips with this thumb. His lover answered with a kiss against his appendage. They both enjoyed the pleasure of the physical contact, but they also knew they were avoiding having a particular conversation. They remained there for hours, until one of them built up enough courage to speak.

“So, are you ready to see him?” the dark haired man broke the silence, his honey-colored irises staring back into his fiance’s baby blues. Kurt sighed heavily and combed his fingers through Blaine’s messy curls. 

“Yes and no. I want to talk to him, but I am dreading seeing his condition.” 

“I understand. We will go together to support him and each other,” Blaine commented. 

Kurt was certain he had looked back at the text message from Garret over one hundred times. He almost didn’t believe it was possible. The worst case scenarios, like images of him dead in an alley or tied up in a psychopath's basement, had plagued his thoughts since Garret had been absent from class. Now that he had received communication from him, a new anxiety occupied his mind. How would he be able to face him?

Breaking from the cuddling for just a moment, Kurt rolled to his left side and reached over to the side table to grab his phone. When he turned back, Blaine rested his head on his shoulder. Kurt held his phone up so the two of them could see the screen and opened up the text conversation he had had with Garret over the last two days.

_ <<Hello, Kurt. I just wanted to tell you that I am alive and I am now safe.>> _

_ <<OMG, GARRET! Are you okay? We read about what happened in the news and we have been worried sick. I am so glad I am reading this! Is there anything Blaine and I can do for you?>> _

_ <<I need a day to unwind. Can I get back to you?>> _

_ <<Of course. We are here for you.*heart*>> _

After Kurt had arrived home from his independent project class on Friday, Garret had continued the conversation,

_ <<I would love to see you two. Can you come to where I am staying so we can talk? I need to get something off my chest.>> _

Kurt remembered having a feeling of dread tying knots in his stomach after reading that message. While he was worried about what the implications of that last comment were, he wanted to be as supportive as possible and he sent his answer,

_ <<Certainly. Just let me know when and where. Blaine and I will be there.>> _

_ <<I am staying with a family member closer to school. Her name is Archie. Can you come over Saturday afternoon, say around 1PM?>> _

_ <<Count us in. Just send me the address. Can’t wait to see you!>> _

The clock at the top of the phone screen read 10 A.M. which allowed the pair plenty of time to get up, clean themselves and get to Archie's place. The phone had nothing else useful to tell them and Kurt laid it down on his chest for a moment. He and Blaine remained in place for several minutes. They didn’t want to leave the safety of each other’s warmth. 

“I love you so much, Kurt.” Blaine’s comment was firm and unwavering. He didn’t move or turn to face his boyfriend. They both focused on the same spot on the ceiling while continuing to caress one another.

“And I you. More than life itself.” 

The sunlight filtered through the window to their left, creating designs on the ceiling. Kurt felt Blaine shift his position so he was laying his head on his chest with his arms wrapped around him. 

“It sucks that we have to live in fear lately. I wish this wasn’t something we had to worry about. But, I am glad we are facing it together. I think that, because we have one another, we will make it.” 

Kurt stroked Blaine’s cheek with the palm of his hand and nodded.

“You couldn’t be more right.” 

Even though they were accustomed to the lightning speed of the normal work week, their usual morning routine continued at a much slower beat. It was something that they didn’t realize they needed. It gave them a sense of normalcy amidst their frightening reality. Blaine and Kurt switched off who was in the shower and who was at the table eating a light breakfast. While they were both hungry, neither of them wanted to fill their stomachs with a substantial meal. There was a feeling in their guts that they would be physically affected by the stories they were going to hear from Garret. Once meals were finished and dishes cleaned, Kurt and Blaine tried to distract themselves by watching a movie. After about ten minutes, this proved unsuccessful. They sat in silence, holding each other and staring at the blank screen of the television. No words were exchanged until they felt it was time to prepare for their departure.

They stood next to each other at the door of the apartment about an hour after getting out of bed. This gave them over an hour to make it to their friend’s place. The way they looked at each other suggested they were heading into battle, not going to have a conversation with a close friend. Holding each other’s hands, they walked over the threshold. Kurt slid the door shut and locked it, testing to make sure it was secure before taking Blaine’s hand once more and heading toward the apartment entrance. 

A long, agonizing subway right, and a taxi later, the two men found themselves standing side by side in one of the fanciest elevators they had ever seen. Garret’s cousin lived in a lavish apartment near Battery Park. The two of them could only dream of being wealthy enough to afford a place like that. Upon entering, a female voice greeted them,

“Please make a floor selection.” 

Kurt and Blaine were caught slightly off guard as they stared at each other. Blaine snickered as he examined the numbered buttons on the panel before him.

“What floor was it, again?” 

“Seventh,” Kurt responded. With a firm press of his thumb, the button lit up blue and the voice spoke to them again,

“You have chosen the seventh floor.” 

They felt the elevator ascending and risked a look at each other. The awkward silence was broken by their laughter. Blaine leaned back against the wall of the tiny room and squinted his eyes, trying to stifle himself. Kurt just covered his mouth with his hand and looked at the floor with the fear that meeting eyes with his lover would cause him to cackle. They were thankful that the robotic voice could bring them the first ounce of hilarity in a long time. After gaining some composure, they noticed that the elevator was slowing down. When the doors finally opened, the robotic voice spoke one last time,

“Seventh floor.” 

The pair held hands and, as they exited the lift, chuckled once more. The hall appeared more like a five star hotel than an apartment. Cream colored walls were adorned in carefully crafted molding and gold inlay. The dark blue carpet looked brand new, suggesting that the astronomical rent helped with the upkeep of the lavish decor. 

The pair stopped in front of apartment 710. They looked into each other’s eyes and took a deep breath. Kurt reached for the gold door knocker and tapped it three times. He and Blaine waited patiently in the silence of the hallway until they heard the lock mechanism being disengaged. The door opened to reveal a young woman in her mid thirties staring back with a face that was weighted with concern. Her long wavy dark hair framed her thin face and draped over her shoulders. 

“You must be Blaine and Kurt.” her voice was calm and soothing. The pair nodded,

“We are. And you are Archie, correct?” Blaine asked. She responded with a nod and pulled the door open, beckoning them into the domicile. Once they were both in the foyer, taking in the layout of the fancy apartment, they heard the door close behind them. After reinforcing the lock, she turned to both of them with open arms. 

“Thank you for coming, guys. It means the world to Garret that you wanted to hear him out,” she approached Blaine and wrapped her arms around him without hesitation. He accepted the affection and enveloped her petite frame in his own arms. She then turned to Kurt and extended the same welcome. When she backed away, her stunningly bright green eyes seemed a little more relaxed. 

“How has he been?” Kurt asked. She tilted her head and shrugged,

“Well, as well as he can be. I think he is just trying to take it a day at a time. He’s been resting a lot lately. The doctor said he needed to take it easy.”

Blaine and Kurt exchanged glances and Archie noticed a hint of concern,

“We don’t want to disturb him if he is sleeping.” 

She shook her head,

“No need to worry. He was expecting you. While he is in bed, he is awake. I will warn you though, this experience has really taken a toll on him. Don’t really expect him to last very long talking about it. He can barely get much out with his therapist. I just request that you give him time and just listen.” She scanned both of their faces for recognition. When they both nodded, she felt a pang of relief.

“We can definitely do that. Thank you for taking him in, Archie.” She waved him off,

“It was the least I could do. He and I grew up together, so it’s great to have him here.” 

With that, she gestured for them to follow her down the long hallway to the right. On the way they passed an office and bathroom on the right and the kitchen to the left. Blaine and Kurt were absolutely floored by the square footage of the place. Whatever she did for a living, she was successful. They came to the final door on the left and Archie knocked softly. From inside she heard Garret call,

“Come in.” his voice did not sound as lively and exuberant as usual. This gave Blaine and Kurt a signal to prepare themselves for how he may look. 

As they passed over the threshold, they noticed that the only light seeping in came from the window at the back right corner. The sun crept in and only fractionally stifled the darkness. Garret was sitting up in the bed against the far right wall with his back supported against a pillow. On either side of the bed were two chairs waiting for his friends. The first thing either of them noticed was the dark purple shade of Garret’s skin surrounding his left eye. On the right side of his face they saw a line of stitches across his cheek. While the evidence of the abuse he had endured made their stomach’s churn, Blaine and Kurt approached him with wide smiles, more overwhelmed by the happiness of seeing him alive. 

Garret motioned for them to come over to the bed and held his arms open. He exchanged a gentle hug with both of them. They could only assume it was because he was trying not to aggravate his already injured body. Archie smiled at the affectionate greeting and then headed toward the door, stopping for a moment before she exited,

“I’ll be in the living room. Call me if you need anything.” 

Garret placed his hands on his chest and nodded at her,

“Thank you so much, Archie. It means a lot.” 

She responded with a slight smile and then disappeared, closing the door behind her. 

Garret turned to his friends sitting in the chairs on either side of the bed. Blaine scanned the room as subtly as he could. The mirror to the left of the bed had been draped with a bed sheet. The bedside table was riddled with medication bottles and a glass of water. On the other side of the bed, he could see a heavily used and leather bound notebook of some kind with a pen laying on top of it. He assumed it was a journal. The rest of the room looked typical of what one would find. 

“We are really glad you are okay, Garret. When we both read the article and saw your name in it, we nearly fainted. Thank goodness you were found.” 

Garret sat quietly and listened to his friend speak. His expressions weren’t as pronounced as they were accustomed to. The man before them appeared to be hiding behind a mask of fear. Kurt saw him rubbing his hands with nervous energy. His eyes then moved to the skin on his wrists. Dark purple bruises encircled them and Kurt could only guess what that meant. Without wanting to look like he was staring, Kurt made sure to move his gaze to his friend’s face. 

“How is Jason?” Blaine inquired. Garret’s face neither lit up nor soured. He moved his head with a nervous tic,

“He’s still in the hospital. The doctor’s are optimistic though. They hope to release him next week.”

Blaine and Kurt made an effort to be as enthusiastic as possible. They wanted their friend to know that there was hope after this terrible ordeal. They leaned forward and smiled with ear to ear grins.

“That is great, Garret. We are so happy to hear that he is doing better.” 

They could see the tears glistening in his eyes. Immediately, they reached their hands out and placed them on the side of the bed. After a moment’s hesitation, Garret obliged by taking each of their hands and squeezing them tight. His mouth curled into a frown as he brought his chin to his chest. A few heavy breaths allowed for some sobs to exit his lungs. His friends squeezed his hands in return and sat in silence while he let out the emotions that were overflowing.

“Thank you, guys. I couldn’t ask for a better pair of friends to talk to. I trust both of you and I know you will take me seriously,” he spoke through a weepy voice. A few deep breaths helped him to level out his voice and stifle some of the tears. 

“You said there was something you wanted to get off your chest. We are here to listen, Garret. You can tell us anything,” Kurt reminded him of what he had mentioned in the text message and Garret nodded in response. Without looking up, he said,

“I want to tell you what I can remember. I need to say it out loud. My therapist says it can help me to accept what happened and move on.” 

Blaine and Kurt both nodded and squeezed his hands again. 

“You tell us whatever you feel comfortable telling us, Garret. We’re here for you.” 

Garret closed his eyes and took several cleansing breaths. Kurt and Blaine could only assume that they were about to hear the worst. They knew this would be hard for their friend to relive it, but they promised to be there to support him all the way through. 

“I can’t really remember what they looked like. I just remember they were very charismatic and experts at deception. Every time they talked to each other, they spoke German, I do remember that. Jason and I first met them at a cafe nearby our apartment. You know the Blue Anchor?” Garret looked for a glimmer of recognition from the boys and received it in the form of subtle nods. He continued, "Well, their leader had overheard us talking about looking for a new place. He came up to our table and then introduced himself as some successful realtor who wanted to help us out. He had all the credentials, business cards, IDs, the like. We met with him several times the following week.”

Kurt and Blaine didn’t move an inch, but kept holding onto his hands. 

“So at the end of the week, we were sitting in our apartment talking to this guy and suddenly three of his friends walked in uninvited. Jason and I thought that was strange so we asked what they were doing there. That’s when the shit hit the fan,” his voice caught in his throat as he was approaching the horrific parts of his experience. “Before I knew it, I was already on the floor, with two of them holding me down. They tied both of us up with rope and gagged us with tape,” Garret closed his eyes and turned his head, as if to be looking away from the scene in his mind. “They were relentless, guys. The entire time they talked about how they were the superior, Aryan race, and that homosexuality was a sin against the Almighty. We had to be cleansed or some shit. Apparently cleansed to them meant beaten.” 

Garret shifted his position, but still held onto their hands, “They made me watch as they cut into Jason’s chest with a Bowie knife. When they were done with that, they moved on to me,” he pulled his hand away from Kurt’s and pulled up his sleeve on his right arm. The boys saw more stitches and bruises there. After letting his sleeve down, he grabbed Kurt’s hand again and continued, “Any time we refused to do what they said, we received some kind of punishment. I can’t tell you how many times we were punched and kicked. All of them were wearing heavy boots too, so we felt each moment of contact. But the worst part came near the end. This was right before they hinted at killing us.” 

Once again, the boys could see the tears welling up in their friend’s eyes. This time, he couldn’t hold them back. His slouched over as the sobs exited his lungs. The sentiment had reached both of his friends in a visceral way. They too had tears streaming down their faces. Blaine met eyes with his betrothed. Neither of them could imagine having to experience the other being beaten. It tore them up inside. 

“When they felt they had had enough of cutting us and beating us, the leader barked some orders at one of his lackeys in German. That’s when the other member turned on the stove and started warming up some metal rod. Jason and I had no idea what was happening. That’s when they brought the brand out…”

Kurt’s brow furrowed in confusion as he uttered the first word since Garret had begun his account of what happened,

“Brand? As in a hot brand? Like, for cattle?” 

Garret let go of both of their hands and pulled down on the collar of his shirt, revealing the skin of his chest. On the left side was a dark red burn mark in the shape of a rectangle. Inside this rectangle was the word sünde*. Blaine took one look at it and closed his eyes in disbelief. Garret searched his friends' faces for understanding. He knew he had reached them when he saw both of them look away. Blaine shook his head, as if trying to remove the image from his mind. Kurt just leaned back in his chair, tears flowing freely from his eyes now. The three of them sat in silence for several minutes. Garret filled most of the time rubbing his hands together nervously. The retelling of his and Jason’s ordeal was bringing up the trauma and anxiety. 

“I don’t know why they left us alive, guys. I just know that…” his voice broke again and he was barely able to finish his sentence, “...I was so scared. I thought we were both going to die, guys. I saw my life flash before my eyes and, what was worse, I knew the same was happening to Jason…” his face scrunched up in anguish as he let out his last words, “...and I couldn’t save him.”

With that, he completely broke down. Both of his hands covered his face and he sobbed freely in front of both of his friends. Blaine and Kurt stood from their chairs and sat on either side of the bed. They leaned in and wrapped their arms around their friend in solidarity. Garret was both traumatized and relieved. Reliving the ordeal had proven more difficult than he expected, but sharing his fears with his friends was also cathartic. He knew he had confidants in these two men and he was eternally grateful.

“I can’t go back there. I can’t go back to that apartment.” Blaine rubbed the man’s back gently and responded,

“You don’t have to. You and Jason will find somewhere better. I’m sure of it.” 

Garret just nodded as the sobs continued. His cheeks were completely soaked in tears at this point in his eyes were red and puffy. The door opened and Archie appeared in the room. She wasn’t angry, but the tension in her body suggested that she was uncomfortable with the scene she had walked into. After only a few moments of watching her cousin losing it, she walked up behind Blaine and gently touched his shoulder. 

“I think it’s time to let him rest, gentlemen.”

Kurt and Blaine did not protest. They agreed that he had exerted enough energy for the day and they stepped away from the bed. Garret was so engulfed in his own emotions that he didn’t even noticed they had walked away. Archie took their place on the bed and embraced her cousin lovingly. She turned to Kurt and Blaine,

“You may see yourselves out. I’m sorry to be so forward, but I have to insist. Thank you for coming, it means a lot.”

Kurt held his hands out in front of him and shook his head,

“No need to apologize. We understand. Thank you for sharing that with us, Garret. We will see you later.”

He and Blaine exited the room, headed down the hallway and walked out of the apartment. They remained silent as they approached the elevator and Blaine pressed the button to go down. When the doors finally opened, they entered the elevator, pressed the ground floor button and waited for the small vehicle to begin its descent. 

Kurt backed up against the wall and slowly lowered himself to the floor. The strong face he had put on for Garret was now completely gone. Blaine knelt down in front of him and pulled him into a hug as they both wept in each other’s arms. Even the robotic voice that they had previously found humorous did not penetrate their anguish. Kurt’s hands gripped Blaine’s shoulders like vices. He could not even fathom watching someone hurt him. The thought made him sick to his stomach. If someone took Blaine from him, he would undoubtedly lose a piece of himself. 

Thankfully no one else had wanted to go to the ground floor and the elevator made it without stopping. Kurt and Blaine were able to compose themselves before the doors opened again. Hand in hand, they exited the building and made their way to the subway station. They didn’t want to be anywhere else but with each other. The moments ticked by at an agonizing slow pace as they made their way home. 

********

The door slid open almost violently when the two of them entered their apartment. Kurt entered first, deposited his coat on one of the kitchen chairs and then stood silently in the middle of the apartment. Blaine closed the door behind him and locked it. He too removed his coat and draped it over a chair before approaching Kurt from behind. He lovingly wrapped his arms around his fiance’s waist and remained there, unmoving. 

The two of them stood in each other’s presence saying not a word. Kurt began to nervously bite at the tip of his index finger as he stared off into space. Image of his friend being bound and gagged and then tortured mercilessly kept replaying itself in his mind. He grabbed both sides of his head and groaned in frustration. Blaine released his grip on Kurt’s waist and walked around to face him. 

“Kurt, it’s okay. I’m here.”

The swollen redness had not left his eyes as more tears materialized. The streams stained his cheeks as he continued to hold his hands on his temples, trying to force the images out. Blaine placed his hands on top of Kurt’s, making him look into his honey-colored orbs. 

Within seconds, the two of them had locked lips and were moving forcefully toward the bed. Kurt sucked ravenously at his boyfriend’s lips as if it would be his last chance to do it. Blaine returned the gesture with passion, massaging his tongue along the inside of Kurt’s mouth. They both cooed with pleasure and Blaine found himself being pushed onto the bed. Kurt straddled him and took his face into his hands smashing his mouth against Blaine’s. He could feel the younger one’s hands caressing his back. It sent sensations through his body that made him feel more alive than he had in the last two weeks. 

Kurt suddenly backed off, stood from the bed and began to unfastened the buttons of his shirt. Blaine had no patience for that and simply ripped his top over his head and tossed it on the floor. He beckoned for his lover to come to him and Kurt did so without hesitation. Kurt’s hands worked their way to Blaine’s behind and pulled it toward him. Blaine jumped up and wrapped his legs around Kurt’s waist, pulling their bodies even closer. They could feel each other’s warmth as they once again collapsed onto the bed. 

The world around them did not exist at that moment. All that mattered was the passion they were feeling for one another. All they wanted was to be alive. When Kurt felt Blaine’s tongue enter his mouth once more, he felt a surge of strength move through him. He knew then that they would both make it, come hell or high water.


	5. Candles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one, my friends! Kurt sees Elias at the diner again, but this time the conversation does not end how he had hoped.

The last few days had served up a plethora of emotions for the two lovers. On more than one occasion those emotions had bubbled over, causing both of them to be vulnerable in front of one another. Thankfully, their profound trust for one another made moments like that easier. 

The conversation with Garret was one of those moments. Blaine and Kurt didn’t have to bring up the fact that the night of passion was a cathartic end to a very trying several days. As they lay in bed at the conclusion of their sexual encounter, they had both agreed it had been like reliving their first time. It was a moment neither of them would trade for anything. It made the dullness of their regular work routines much easier to endure. 

The pings on Kurt’s phone were relentless today. As he stood in front of the mirror at the Starlight, setting his hair and straightening his shirt, he heard the light-hearted beep from his pocket again. The last few indications had shown messages from Artie, recalling the enjoyable night they had at Callbacks on Sunday. Unfortunately, Kurt had been rather liberal with the alcohol and couldn't remember a lot of what occurred. His memory brought back fragments. Most of those fragments consisted of him and Blaine sitting on the piano, belting out Sweeney Todd at the top of their lungs, much to the chagrin of the congregation. Despite the embarrassing display, the night out on the town with their close friend was the distraction that Blaine and Kurt had needed. Artie had made sure to retell the entirety of the story, allowing him to relive the shame, since Monday morning. 

This ping, however, was not a text message. As the screen came to life, Kurt was faced with yet another alert pertaining to the Nazi gang. 

**MEMBERS OF NAZI GANG SPOTTED IN BUSHWICK NEIGHBORHOOD AT INTERSECTION OF WILSON AND GATES**

The adrenaline started pumping through his veins as he read the names of two streets within walking distance of their apartment. His eyes scanned the article for any useful information. 

_“...Witnesses claim that one or more individuals brandishing the die Stärke symbol on his arm was spotted in a crowd of party-goers near the intersection of Wilson and Gates. Members of the LGBTQ community in the Bushwick neighborhood are not advised to walk alone in this neighborhood. Police have increased patrols as an extra precaution…”_

All he knew was that this was not what he needed on his mind right before heading out to the floor. It was sure to distract him for the rest of the night, knowing that he and Blaine would be in more danger on the way home. He would have to put on his best fake smile and push through. A feeling in his gut told him he was going to have the dreaded section one and he hated it. His gut usually proved to be right. 

After clipping his name placard to his shirt, and a moment's meditation, he headed out the door to the serving floor. Sabrina held up the seating chart with a look of sympathy. She didn’t have to say anything. He knew what that meant. 

“I’m sorry,” she mouthed to him. He just patted her on the back as he reached in for his customer ticket folder. This time Sabrina gave him a kiss of sympathy as he headed toward the front counter. At this particular moment, the bar was empty and Kurt saw it as a saving grace. He needed some mindless cleaning as a distraction from the information he had gleaned from the latest headline.

His phone buzzed from his pocket, giving him a momentary distraction. Thankfully, this alert was not for another disturbing headline, but a message from Blaine. 

_ <<Peter came to visit the store again. Can you believe that he said Moulin Rouge is a reason to vomit? I can’t believe it! He’s dead to me.>> _

The fact that Kurt could detect his boyfriend's sarcasm in a text was just testament to how well he knew him. With a smirk he responded,

_ <<Let him down easy. Tell him you can no longer be friends and then run away with me. *wink*>> _

At the front of the restaurant, he saw his coworkers setting up the piano and the speakers. This was a signal that someone was going to show off their skills tonight. Sabrina had finished hooking up the microphone when his phone buzzed again,

_ <<Sounds romantic as hell. When do we leave?>> _

_ << How does 8PM sound?>> _

_ <<It’s a date. See you then.>> _

Kurt’s shift was beginning to take a more positive turn. It was almost as if Blaine could sense that the text messages would lighten him up. As if to send him a kiss of thanks, he placed a gentle smooch on the screen and returned it to his pocket.

Tonight was Hugh’s night to take the stage. Currently, he was serenading the early dinner crowd with his unique rendition of an Abba classic. Kurt couldn’t help but wiggle his hips back and froth and move the washcloth over the counter to the rhythm of “Mama Mia.” When he looked up from his tedious task, he could see Hugh making eyes at an older woman sitting at a booth close to the stage. After he made the cute gesture of kissing her hand, she looked ready to swoon. Kurt chuckled to himself and continued tidying up his station.

“You have some moves, my friend.” 

Kurt had been so lost in the inane chore of deep cleaning, that he hadn’t noticed his first patron approach the counter. Thankfully, it was a voice he recognized,

“Elias!” his response indicated pure elation as he turned toward his friend with his arms held out. They leaned over the counter and embraced each other. When Elias took his seat on one of the stools, he folded his arms in front of him and looked Kurt up and down. This made him feel slightly exposed as he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He pretended to look away timidly,

“Why, Elias, are you undressing me with your eyes?” he chuckled. Elias raised an eyebrow and without skipping a beat responded,

“What if I said yes? Would I make Blaine jealous?” 

“Elias, you are feisty tonight,” he looked at the German with playfully wide eyes and then gave him a dance of his eyebrows, “I like it.” 

A collective laugh helped ease a little bit more of Kurt’s tension. He noticed his shoulders relaxing and his grip on the edge of the counter loosened. Elias leaned on the edge of the counter, and folded his hands in a tepee shape. 

“Kurt, I can’t help but notice that something is upsetting you. Are you alright?”

A short pause and a heavy sigh confirmed this for Elias. Kurt turned to him and slouched over the counter, showing his fatigue.

“See? I told you that you were psychic. How is it that you always know?” 

Elias shrugged, “Well, not to be rude, but you don’t really try to hide it, my friend,” his blue eyes sent messages of empathy to Kurt from behind his thin framed glasses. His brow knitted, hoping to get more information from Kurt. It never came, for he was clearly trying to change the subject,

“Alright, enough about me. Caesar salad and iced tea with lemon coming right up,” as he began to scribble the order down on the guest ticket, Elias snickered,

“You must be psychic too, if you know my order.” 

Kurt playfully rolled his eyes as his arms went limp at his sides,

“You always order the same thing. It doesn't require much talent, just an okay memory, which I am surprised that is working well for me lately.” Dropping his pen in his apron pocket and tearing the slip from his pad signaled to Elias that Kurt was about to disappear into the kitchen. Before Kurt could leave, Elias knocked on the the counter a couple of times to gain his attention,

“You will tell me what is on your mind when you come back to serve me my tea. That’s an order.” 

Kurt wasn’t sure if Elias was kidding with the sternness or if he was being sarcastic. He paused for a moment as he and Elias were caught in a staring competition. Unfortunately, Elias was not faltering and it was beginning to make him even more uncomfortable. To escape from this awkward hell, he turned around and disappeared through the swinging doors. Clipping the ticket on the line, he turned back to the door, hoping that this action would act as a control-alt-delete for what he had just experienced. When he locked eyes with his friend, thankfully he had a mirthful look on his face. 

“What was that all about?” Kurt inquired. Elias just laughed and slapped his hand on the counter,

“I told you I was good at getting people to do what I want. Come, my friend, tell me what is on your mind,” the German gestured at the seat next to him. Kurt hesitated for a moment, mostly because he didn’t want to get caught neglecting his job. After scanning the counter and seeing that no other customers had taken a seat, he decided it was worth the risk.

The uncomfortable stool did not help the tension in his back as he leaned against the counter next to Elias. His friend watched him and waited patiently for him to talk. 

“Blaine and I are just worried. There was another alert on my phone right before my shift. Apparently one of those Neo-Nazi bastards was spotted very close to our apartment,” Kurt rubbed is hands together nervously, but continued, “And then, just the other day, our friend who works at a nearby coffee stand told us about a couple that was killed right across the street from his booth,” Kurt was interrupted by the curious musings of the German beside him,

“Oh, you mean Ignacio?” 

“Yeah,” he mustered. 

Kurt could still hear the sound of Hugh as he continued with this set of Abba hits. He was happy to have that as the soundtrack of this conversation, and he was even more grateful to have a confidant. Licking his lips, he turned to Elias and then paused suddenly. One thing felt out of place about what Elias had just said. He didn’t remember disclosing the name of their favorite barista.

“Wait, how did you know that?”

“He is hard to miss, Kurt. Tall, lanky and bubbly fellow with a Puerto Rican accent?”

Kurt’s face changed from confused and curious to slightly irritated. He shifted in his seat and shrugged at Elias, indicating that he demanded more of an explanation.

“I have bought coffee from him before. His coffee stand is not that far from this restaurant.” 

Kurt wasn’t convinced by that,

“It’s several blocks away. Kind of out of the way. Have you been following us?” 

Elias shook his head and scoffed. He looked down at the floor and his scoff turned into a laugh. When his gaze met Kurt’s once more, he could see a hint of distrust in his eyes. 

“What if I said yes?” 

“I would be creeped out. Seriously, Elias.” Kurt didn’t hesitate to respond to that. 

A high-pitched ding from the kitchen saved Kurt from the discomfort of continuing this conversation. For once, he was happy to get up and go about his duties. He could feel Elias’s eyes following him from the stool to the kitchen door. A quick glance at the food line showed the salad ready to be brought out to the table. Without much thought, he took the plate and walked out of the kitchen, placing the salad in front of Elias devoid of eye contact. Then, he robotically turned to the drink station and prepared the iced tea with lemon. 

“Kurt, come on. I was joking. You understand, right?” 

He continued to avoid contact with Elias as he responded,

“I just can’t take it as that. With everything that’s going on, and what my boyfriend and I experienced this last week, it’s just not funny. Enjoy your salad.”

Kurt spent the rest of his shift making an extraordinary effort to avoid any more conversation with Elias. For once, he was happy to serve the CEOs sitting at the bar with their mistresses and the self entitled jerks with a superiority complex. Anything beat the creepiness of a potential stalker. A gut wrenching feeling made him wonder if Elias’s charisma was just his disturbing stalker practice for gaining Kurt’s trust. By the time he brought him his third tea refill without so much as a smile, Elias took the hint. The bill was paid in silence and he left. 

Eight o’clock couldn’t come fast enough. When Kurt saw Blaine enter the diner, looking handsome as ever, his heart skipped a beat. He began to do the finishing touches of his end of shift chores with a bit more haste. They met eyes from across the restaurant, giving each other a smile of mutual understanding. Both of them were ready to get home and settled in for the night. Sabrina approached from the small door at the side of the counter and reached out for the rag Kurt was using to wipe it down. She took it from his hand,

“Go clock out. I’ll finish up.” 

Kurt looked at her hopefully, “Really?” 

She nodded, “Go be with your adorable man.”

Kurt placed a gentle kiss on her cheek in a form of gratitude and, after running into the back room to grab his coat, hurried over to his boyfriend. They shared a tender kiss at the door as they clasped their hands together. Kurt opened the door and pulled Blaine with him as the cool evening breeze tickled their faces. Kurt moved in closer to Blaine and wrapped his arm around his waist. Sadly, their affectionate moment was interrupted,

“Kurt! Kurt, please!” he heard Elias’s voice behind him and almost flinched. Blaine looked at him in confusion,

“What’s wrong?” he whispered.

“We had a slight misunderstanding tonight.” With that he turned to the man calling his name. Elias approached them with his arms out in front of him as a sign of good will. 

“My friend, please don’t be upset. I sincerely apologize if my joke was in poor taste. I honestly have not been following you and Blaine.”

The look in Elias’s eyes suggested sincerity and Kurt started to feel a bit guilty for being angry with him. He turned to Blaine and whispered in his ear a short explanation of the exchange that had occurred earlier. Blaine's feelings of distrust toward Elias were being reinforced by what had occurred. However, he wanted to try to give him another chance to prove himself. He nodded, showing he understood and tried to remedy the awkwardness,

“So, he goes to have coffee at the same stand, who cares?” Blaine whispered back. 

This was the confirmation he needed. He had been too harsh on Elias and now he was feeling a pang of regret. 

“I only wish the best for both of you and I hope you will forgive me.”

“No, no, Elias. It’s okay. I’m so sorry. I was just stressed out and nervous. Why don’t I make it up to you. Would you like to have dinner with us at our place tomorrow?”

“That would be wonderful, my friend, but tomorrow I cannot.”

Kurt slumped where he stood, showing his obvious disappointment. He stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. Interrupting his boyfriend’s childish pursuits, Blaine offered an alternative,

“What about Friday? Say, 5ish?”

“Sounds like a plan. I am already very excited!” 

After a quick exchange of information, including how to find the Anderson-Hummel apartment, the three of them shook hands and departed. Kurt was glad he and Blaine were able to turn the awkward exchange into something they could all look forward to. Everything that had been happening of late was just putting him on edge. Sadly, one of his friends had to be the victim of his sour mood. 

The pair was comforted by the sound of the bustling crowds as they made their way home. The overall tone of the people who passed them by was positive and lively. Kurt pressed his fingers into Blaine’s shoulder and pulled him closer to his body. Blaine answered by resting his head against his lover’s neck. 

At the end of the block, they could see that Ignacio’s coffee stand was closed up for the night. This was not surprising, as most of the patrons canvassing the area were interested in drinks of an alcoholic persuasion. They would be sure to visit him the next morning, with the hope that he was more cheerful than their last meeting. 

They continued forward, looking each other in the eye. Neither was worried about tripping because they knew this route like the back of their hands. It wasn’t until Kurt stopped dead in his tracks as they came closer to the coffee stand that Blaine became aware of his surroundings. He followed Kurt’s gaze to the outside wall of Ignacio’s booth and nearly gasped. 

Neither of them could believe what they were seeing. Sprayed across the wooden surface was the die Stärke symbol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Form here on out, the chapters will be on the long side. Also, our boys are going to be tested very soon!


	6. It's Too Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of the dinner with Elias has arrived. Blaine is at the apartment, cleaning and prepping while Kurt is finishing up his last class of the week at NYADA. Kurt receives a text from Garret, who wants to chat with him. He has remembered more details about the night he was attacked. Details that Kurt and Blaine would have been better to know earlier. 
> 
> Language notes:  
> Wohin gehst du, kleiner Vogel? = Where are you going, little bird?  
> meine Fruende = my friends  
> er kennt mich = he knows me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, everyone. Brace yourselves. The next two chapters are intense. I hope to have chapter 7 up shortly. Thank you for your interest, everyone! You are all so very kind to a newbie fanfiction writer! 
> 
> Warnings:  
> -Cussing  
> -Violence

Friday was independent project day. It had been about six weeks since classes had commenced and Kurt still wasn’t sure what "independent project" meant. Professor Ali’s description at the onset had been rather sobering. Kurt could just remember her piercing green eyes looking through him in the front row,

“Create something that will make me remember you. Interpret as you will.” 

That minimal instruction had been accompanied by the promise that she would have numerous resources at the class’s disposal. Otherwise, she gave the impression that they were then to go forth and spawn ideas worthy of abounding accolades. Her office hours of 8 A.M. to 4 P.M. were also at their disposal for consultation, otherwise they were free to stay or go as they pleased. Time management skills would surely be put to the test. 

Kurt had already changed his mind about twenty, no thirty, times. At first his mind had gone right to the creation of a musical. Then he realized, after eavesdropping on multiple classmates, that his idea was shared by many. So, now he was six weeks in with only the vague idea of some kind of song and dance showcase. Rachel had been there to help him start, but her luck had taken a more positive turn when she was called to Los Angeles for a possible pilot. She was getting noticed. Kurt was jealous. 

And now Kurt found himself in a nearly empty seminar room accompanied by only a laptop and one other classmate who was practically comatose in his seat. For some reason, he was convinced that staying on campus all day would bring him the epiphany he so desperately needed. Countless days of fickleness and vacillation suggested he was wrong. A quick look at his watch indicated that it was just past three o’clock. He decided that he had put in enough self torture for the day and began packing up his shoulder bag with his books and laptop. 

The familiar ding of a notification filled the emptiness of the classroom and lit up his phone screen. He figured it was Blaine, asking him where a particular cleaning item was for the fiftieth time. Kurt wondered why, after being in the apartment for this long, he hadn’t figured all of this out yet. A quick look at the messaging app proved him wrong. The small popup on his screen indicated that he had received a message from Garret. 

Out of excitement and curiosity, he tapped on the notification which brought up the line of text messages.

_< <I enjoyed our talk last week. Thank you. Sorry I have been rather MIA of late. What are you up to?>>_

The first part of that message made Kurt’s heart go all aflutter with satisfaction. He was worried that his and Blaine’s presence in Garret’s apartment had only caused him to relive the trauma. Thankfully, Garret thought otherwise. He tapped in a message in response,

_< <Blaine and I were so happy to see you. Please don’t worry about being MIA. We both understand. I am about to head home from NYADA. Why?>>_

After about a thirty second pause, he received an answer,

_< <Do you have awhile to spare? I’d love to chat again. I am remembering some things and I wanted to share them with you. Hopefully to help you keep on the lookout for those Nazi bastards.>>_

Kurt looked at his watch again. He really wanted to visit with Garret, but he didn’t want to be late for their evening engagement with Elias.

_< <I can come for about an hour. Is that okay?>>_

_< <Sounds great. See you shortly.>>_

For some reason, the final message gave him a sudden sense of urgency as he hurried out the door of the classroom. The late September afternoon sun suggested that dusk was fast approaching and Kurt wanted to get home before it was too dark. 

********

Why the hell couldn't he get this apartment clean enough? After several text messages to Kurt, Blaine thought he would have had the layout of the apartment memorized. However, he seemed to find a new surface to clean hiding around a mysterious corner every few minutes. After he had been dusting, vacuuming and mopping for a majority of the morning, he began planning the evening meal. A quick trip down to the local farmer’s market and the local meat shop in the Ridgewood neighborhood proved fruitful. He returned with a substantial collection of items with which to construct a nutritious feast. This was complete with smoked salmon, and an assortment of fresh vegetables. 

From the living room area, a special playlist that Kurt had created the night before was bellowing out of the speakers of the iStereo. Blaine found himself swaying back and forth to the beat as his hands carefully cleaned a collection of fresh green beans. Once completed with this task, he carefully placed them into an airtight container and set them in the refrigerator. The salmon fillets sat in a separate container marinating in a delicious teriyaki glaze. With great satisfaction with his own culinary skill, Blaine closed the fridge and finished cleaning the countertop of the food scraps and implements. 

His little dance was interrupted by a firm knock at the apartment door. Blaine glanced at his watch, seeing that it was only about 3:30 P.M. Who could that be? Was Artie stopping by? Cautiously, he unlatched the lock and slid the door to the left, revealing Elias smiling with a bottle of wine in hand. His wardrobe suggested he had put in extra time, not to mention money, into looking well put together. Everything about his appearance screamed fitted, and chic. His long tan blazer covered a dark green button down shirt. The entire ensemble was finished off with carefully tailored dark blue pants stopping at a pair of laced leather shoes. Blaine was impressed, and frankly, a bit jealous. He had chosen his blue striped button down mostly because Kurt loved it. Now he wished he had put a bit more effort into his wardrobe.

“Elias.” Blaine greeted him more with a tone of surprise than excitement. Elias’s face suggested embarrassment as he looked back sheepishly,

“I know I am early, my friend. I hope you don’t mind. I am more than happy to go wait at a nearby coffee shop if you're not ready.”

Blaine waved his hand at him,

“Oh, no, absolutely not. Please, come in.”

Elias handed Blaine the wine from his hands. Blaine took a look at the label and his eyes almost popped out of his head. The brand he held went for at least one hundred dollars a bottle the last time he looked. 

“Is it not to your liking?” Elias looked slightly worried. Blaine shook his head,

“No, no, it’s not that. It’s just that this is pretty expensive stuff. Are you sure you want to share this with us for a simple dinner?” 

Elias furrowed his brow and looked Blaine dead in the eye, placing a strong hand on his shoulder,

“A simple dinner? No, my friend. This is a chance for me to share a magnificent meal with two people who have been very kind to me since I arrived here. I insist.” 

Blaine protested no more and brought the wine to the counter. Elias began to look around, examining the layout of the apartment with curious eyes. Blaine paid him no attention as he fetched three wine glasses from the cupboard and placed them on the counter next to the wine bottle. 

“I like this apartment, Blaine. You have a lot of space. I also think this is very clever,” he indicated the privacy curtains between the two makeshift bedrooms. Blaine laughed,

“I’m glad you like it. It isn’t the best, but it is home for us. We have just enough room and it has a touch of our own personal style. And we feel safe here even though it’s not the best neighborhood.”

“Is it just you and Kurt?” Elias stood in between the privacy curtains with his hands in his pockets, swaying back and forth on his feet. 

“Well, right now it is. It’s kind of an open door. Many of our friends from high school have come and gone. So long as everyone shares in the rent, we are cool with it. Right now Sam uses that bedroom,” Blaine indicated the room on the left, “but he is out of town until tomorrow."

Elias listened to Blaine’s explanation with great interest, smiling the whole time. And then they just stood there for a few minutes awkwardly while the music filled the silence. Blaine was feeling painfully out of place at the moment. He had to start some kind of conversation or he would lose his mind,

“Kurt should be home soon. He was finishing up his class for the day and heading over. Can I offer you some of the wine you brought?” 

Elias smiled and nodded,

“Yes, please.” 

Blaine pointed toward the living room couch,

“Please have a seat and I will gladly bring it to you.” he invited. 

Elias approached the furnishings with delight and sat down comfortably, crossing his legs in front of him. Blaine was thankful that his guest appeared to be making himself at home. Thankfully, he didn’t notice the dust he had missed on the back of the couch. 

*********

Once again, Kurt found himself in the living room of Archie’s apartment. Garret had been the one to answer the door this time, which was a great improvement from the last visit. They sat on the furniture that was bathed in the light of the late afternoon sun pouring in from the large picture window. 

Kurt took in his friend’s appearance. The bruises on his face, especially around his eye, had faded significantly and he was grateful to see it. Garret appeared to move with much less tension than last time. He also appeared to have much more energy. The fact that he was no longer hiding in the back bedroom was a sign that he was gaining more confidence. 

After offering Kurt a drink and being respectfully declined, he sat opposite his friend and leaned back against the couch. He placed his hands nervously in his lap and didn’t look up at first, as if he was trying to gain the courage to begin his account. Kurt waited patiently, knowing that the details he was about to share would most certainly change his mood. 

The first half of the conversation consisted of catch up from NYADA. Kurt could tell that his friend was building up the courage to change to more macabre subject matter. He obliged, and shared all the goings on of the classes he had missed. They shared memories of the hilarious events they had experienced in movements class, most of them involving their rather eccentric professor shouting strange things. Kurt made sure to remind Garret that he was sorely missed not only by him and Blaine, but several of their classmates as well. Garret had brought a dose of sunshine to the often grueling physical demands of that class, and the class definitely noticed his absence. 

They sat in silence for a moment, as Garret worked up more courage. Finally Garret moved on to a much more serious topic of discussion,

“I remember what the leader looks like, Kurt. I woke up this morning with a clear picture in my mind. It scared the shit out of me, but it will help me to give a description to the police.” 

Kurt uncrossed his legs, and leaned forward, draping his arms over his knees. He didn’t want to miss any detail. Anything that could help him keep himself and Blaine safe was extremely useful. 

“You said that they pretended to be into real estate, right?” Kurt inquired. Garret nodded and then shrugged,

“I think that’s what they said. I just remember that the leader always looked really well put together. His clothes were always well fitted and pressed,” Kurt listened with interest as Garret continued, “He had very thin-framed glasses over piercing blue eyes. Damn, Kurt, his eyes were pretty. It makes me sick thinking that, but it’s true.”

As Garret continued to describe his assailant, Kurt began to shift uncomfortably in his seat. Something about this man seemed frighteningly familiar. Garret kept adding details to the description,

“The sides of his head were buzzed, while he wore the rest of his hair slicked up on top. I think his hair was a light brown, or chestnut color. One thing that really stood out was that he spoke with a very faint German accent.” Garret stopped speaking and looked up, almost shocked by the look on Kurt’s face. His forehead was thinly coated in sweat as he squeezed his hands into fists, “Kurt, are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m okay. Do you remember anything else about him? His name perhaps?”

Garret looked deep in thought as he tapped his chin. Kurt waited in agony while his friend tried to recall any more details. There was a gut-wrenching doom in the put of his stomach as he almost didn’t want to know the answer.

“I can’t remember exactly, but I think it started with an E…” Garret was now rubbing his forehead as if trying to pull the memory out of his mind, “Elliot...El…” he was interrupted from the other couch,

“...Elias…?” Kurt said, his voice breaking. 

They both stared stone cold dread into each other’s eyes. Garret didn’t need Kurt to explain anything. He knew his attempt to keep them safe had already failed and that Kurt had already encountered this man. He stood from his couch and walked over to Kurt, sitting next to him and wrapping his arm around his friend. Kurt remained still, staring forward. His breathing was increasing as he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. A full on panic attack was imminent. 

“Kurt, what’s going on?” 

He turned to face Garret, tears welling in his eyes,

“He came to the diner about three weeks ago. So many of the customers there are so terrible that he was like a beacon in the darkness. But he was so…”

“...charming.” Garret finished his sentence. Before he could say anything else, Kurt stood from the couch and began pacing, shaking his hands in front of him like they had fallen asleep. Garret just watched him, panicking as to what else wasn’t being said. After watching his friend go back and forth about ten times, he too stood and stopped Kurt. With his hands holding firmly onto Kurt’s arms, he looked him in the eyes,

“I’m going to ask you again. What is wrong, Kurt? Meeting him is one thing, but something else is up with you.” 

His mouth hung open for several moments, his voice unable to form the words. The tears had long since fallen and his eyes were red and puffy. In Kurt’s mind he was already doomed. This man knew where they lived and he knew what they looked like. Unless he left the state, there was no getting away from him. He mustered up the courage he needed to answer his friend’s question,

“We...we invited him to dinner tonight. He’s supposed to be there at five. Blaine...BLAINE!”

Garret glanced at the clock and saw that it read 4 P.M. Grabbing Kurt’s face in his hands, he spoke sternly,

“Go. Get home as fast as you can, before he arrives. Save Blaine!”

After a moment of eye contact with Garret, Kurt gathered his coat and shoulder bag and headed for the door. He turned back to his friend,

“I will text you when I get home to let you know if I made it. If you don't hear from me in an hour, call the police.”

Garret nodded, shaking his arms in front of him, trying to shoo Kurt from the apartment. 

“Got it. Now GO!” 

In an instant, Kurt disappeared out the door, faster than he knew his legs could carry him. 

*********

Blaine sat opposite Elias on one of the armchairs. With one hand holding his wine glass, he used the other to place the partially full bottle on the coffee table in front of him. As he let himself settle comfortably into the chair, he held his glass up toward Elias and smiled,

“To making new friends.” he chimed. 

Elias paused for a second, giving Blaine a very reflective expression. After a moment’s hesitation, he too smiled and lifted his glass,

“To making new friends. Much obliged, dear Blaine.” with a gentle movement of their wrists, the glasses made a musical clink as they brushed against one another. The two men then lifted the wine glasses to their lips and took a sip. Blaine leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, in an attempt to appear gentlemanly to his guest. He couldn't help but think that, even though they had been conversing for about twenty minutes, Elias still seemed a bit apprehensive to be there. He tried to loosen him up a bit,

“So, Elias, tell me a little more about yourself. I feel like Kurt knows more than I do.” 

Elias crowed, a weak smile on his face, “What would you like to know, my friend?” he asked. Blaine shrugged and searched his mind for something he could ask to fill the dreadfully awkward silence,

“Where exactly are you from? I only ask because your accent has an attractive uniqueness to it. I know you told Kurt you were from Germany, but whereabouts in Germany did you live?” Blaine’s art of flirting had not been dulled since leaving McKinley. Elias seemed to blush a bit as he looked at the floor,

“Uh, well, I was born just outside of Berlin. My family moved around the world a lot when I was young, so my accent has kind of been suppressed over the years. I have to say, though, this is the first time someone has referred to it as attractive, my friend. You definitely know how to make a man feel good about himself.” they both laughed, and the uncomfortable awkwardness seemed to be lifting from the room. 

“What did your family do in Germany?” Blaine continued with another question.

There was a bit more hesitation with this answer as Elias took a long sip of his wine, nearly emptying his glass. After a hard swallow of the liquid, he ran his fingers over his lips nervously,

“Well, my parents were in politics. But it did not take. I guess you could say their opinions were a bit too, what word do you use…?” his eyes squinted as he searched his memory banks for the vocabulary, “...extreme?” 

Blaine tilted his head to the side, “Extreme? How so?” he asked. Elias just scoffed,

“Oh, I don’t know. I guess you could say they were a tad bit too conservative for many people. That's why we fled here. Our family was not welcome there anymore. We wanted to start fresh. Or, at least, that’s what they told me growing up.” Elias smiled nervously as he traced his finger around the rim of the wine glass. 

“Well, I am sorry you had to flee. I hope your brief experience in the U.S. has been positive so far.” Blaine smiled, trying to sound reassuring. Elias nodded and furrowed his brow as if to be strongly agreeing,

“Oh, yes, my friend, it has.” 

Blaine set his glass down and reached for the wine bottle and asked, “Speaking of good experiences, can I freshen up your drink?” 

Elias eagerly reached his glass across the coffee table that sat between them. Blaine proceeded to add to Elias’s helping of wine from the bottle. As he was pouring, the sleeve of Elias's shirt pulled back, revealing the skin on his left arm. Blaine's eyes glanced over at a design tattooed on the inside of Elias’s left wrist. Trying not to look like he was staring, he squinted a bit until he realized he was looking at the fist surrounded by the chains and iron cross. His heart began to race as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Without him realizing it, his hand shook as it held the wine bottle. 

“Everything alright, my friend?” Elias inquired. Blaine steadied the wine bottle as best he could. How was he going to pretend that he hadn’t just seen the tattoo? Had Elias noticed where he was looking? Blaine chuckled nervously and smiled,

“Yeah, sorry, I just didn’t have a good grip I guess.” 

He was thankful that he hadn't accidentally overfilled the wine glass, making himself look even more suspicious. After Elias had sat back comfortably on the couch, Blaine put the wine bottle back on the coffee table and stood from his chair. 

“Excuse me for a second, I have to run to the bathroom.” Blaine was hoping he had sounded convincing. Elias raised his glass and nodded,

“No worries, my friend. I’m not going anywhere,” he said with a wink. 

Blaine walked as quickly as he could to the bathroom without looking conspicuous. As soon as the door closed behind him, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. After holding it for a few seconds, he let it out quietly through his mouth. He could not let himself lose his wits. The fact that he had one of the members of die Stärke in the living room meant he had to be on high alert from here on out. What should he do, though? Keep pretending? How was he going to get Elias out of the apartment? Had he noticed Blaine’s eyes looking at the tattoo? Blaine could only hope that he hadn’t. 

“I have to make it sound like I am actually using the bathroom or he’ll be on to me.” Blaine thought. Within seconds he had reached over to flush the toilet. Shortly after completing this task, he turned on the faucet. Now was his chance.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. His hands were shaking so violently that he could barely hold it. His heart began to race in his chest to the point where he could feel it in his temples. His breathing resembled that of an individual who had just finished a marathon. The adrenaline running through his system made it almost impossible for him to focus on what app he had to open. All required mental capacities seemed to be placed on pause at that moment. His body was focused entirely on survival. 

After a moment of taking a few deep breaths, he was able to steady his fingers enough to bring up a new text. The light ticking sound of his phone’s keyboard filled the small space of the bathroom as he raced to compose a message to his boyfriend. He hoped Elias couldn’t hear what he was doing. 

_ <<ELIAS CAME EARLY. HE IS DIE STÄRKE. I THINK HE KNOWS I KNOW. DON’T COME. CALL THE COPS!>> _

With another deep breath and the phone in his right hand, he wrapped his fingers around it, brought it to his lips and squeezed it, as if to will Kurt to read the message faster. The water had been running longer than he had intended. A rush of anxiety flowed through him as he quickly turned off the faucet. 

Blaine’s heart almost stopped when he turned back toward the door of the bathroom. He met with Elias’s angry malevolent expression as he grabbed a handful of his shirt. It appeared as though Elias had snuck in silently and closed the door behind him without him even realizing it. Before he could fully comprehend the situation, Blaine was being slammed against the door. He let out a painful grunt only to have his face roughly handled by the six-foot German man standing before him. Elias pressed his knee into Blaine’s abdomen, holding him against the door. His eyes widened in horror as a handgun came into view. The barrel, fitted with a suppressor, was placed against his throat. 

Elias smiled at him. It was the kind of smile Blaine had never seen a person make for him before. The only other time he had seen this expression was on the faces of serial killers whose mugshots riddled the evening news. Elias wore it with experience. That smile was not one of friendship, but of a hunger for blood. 

“Blaine, you are a smart man. It seems you have been paying attention to the news reports of late. Very observant, you are.” he squeezed Blaine’s face, causing him to whimper. Blaine instantly regretted showing emotion to this man. He had to remain strong for as long as possible. He could not give this man the satisfaction of seeing him in distress. That was exactly what Elias wanted, and Blaine was determined to leave him disappointed. 

“How about we go into the main room and wait for your knight in shining armor to come save you, shall we?” Elias said in a mockingly friendly tone. Blaine tried fighting Elias’s grip on his chin by moving his head forcefully from side to side. Elias immediately let go of him, backed off a pace and slapped him harshly across the face. Blaine had barely recovered from the shock before he was treated violently again. Elias pulled him forward, opened the bathroom door and shoved him over the threshold and onto the floor. 

He laid on his side, supporting himself on his right elbow and tried to catch his breath. Only seconds passed before he could feel the harsh grip of Elias’s hand on the back of his neck. A forceful pull brought him to his feet as he was led to the kitchen area. While still holding onto Blaine, Elias grabbed one of the chairs and forced Blaine to sit down, facing the apartment entrance. 

The sound of heavy footsteps emerged from the hallway as Blaine looked up with a mixture of hope and dread. The sound stopped for a split second as the door slid open to reveal a familiar face of a man carrying a duffel bag. Elias’s voice met in his ears,

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of inviting a few friends.” 

Blaine’s heart was in his throat. How was this possible? Before him, stood the same enormous man who had made devilish looks at him on the subway and then later came to Mosh Pit to chew him out. 

“Don’t look so surprised, Blaine.” he joked as he approached Elias and they exchanged a friendly greeting. 

“But,” Blaine’s voice caught in his throat, “How…?” Elias interjected,

“Oh, by the way, Blaine, meet Christian. He is one of my most trustworthy friends. Not afraid to get his hands dirty, this one.”

Christian gave him a playful bow and Blaine nearly felt sick to his stomach. Fear and despair disappeared almost instantly. Now Blaine was just angry. He balled his hands into fists, but remained seated,

“So this was all just some kind of act to gain our trust?” Elias and Christian met eyes and then nodded,

“You are exactly right. How smart you are, my friend.” Elias said. Blaine was almost shouting at this point,

“I am not your fucking friend, you murderer!” 

The sound of the gun being cocked next to his head stopped him from moving from his chair. He turned to face Christian, who held his weapon within centimeters of Blaine’s face, the barrel of the gun fitted with a suppressor. After a moment of staring each other down, Blaine decided it would be best if he were more careful with his words. The odds were low at coming out the victor now that he had two assailants against him. 

Christian set his duffel bag on the kitchen table and promptly unzipped it. Blaine watched as he reached in and pulled out a roll of duct tape and set it on the table. Christian and Blaine met eyes,

“Should I use this now, or will you shut up for yourself?” he said. Blaine took the hint and just looked at him angrily. Christian continued pulling out several small bundles of rope and a long metal rod that looked like a fire poker. The rod was fastened with some kind of rectangular attachment at its end that Blaine could not make out. 

He watched the two men closely, trying to pick up their mannerisms. They moved as if they were performing a well practiced dance. Christian continued to empty more instruments from the duffel bag. He handed a long Bowie knife in a leather sheath to Elias who proceeded to tie the straps around his thigh. After placing two more Bowie knives onto the table, he fastened his own to his belt. Two handguns appeared shortly after, and Christian proceeded to fasten each one with a suppressor. Why did he need so many extra weapons when it was just the two of them? 

As this ritual continued, Blaine listened to them speaking German to one another. He knew no German, and always thought of it as an angry sounding language. However, the body language and facial expressions of these men did not suggest anger. Several times they exchanged looks of satisfaction, or even humor. Blaine could only sit and imagine the nightmarish things they had in store for him. He knew that their intentions were to bring harm to him and Kurt. The fact that they saw this as a joyful pastime was unsettling. 

Blaine turned his attention to the door of the apartment. Christian had carelessly left it wide open upon his arrival. Suddenly, a rush of adrenaline hit him as his mind raced with an idea that could end up being foolish, or even fatal. He contemplated making a run for it when the two men turned their backs to him. However he also knew how strong Elias was after being shoved against the wall. He could only assume he was just as equally skilled in precision with a firearm. The man standing next to him was at least twice his size. Anything Elias started, this man could surely finish. Blaine was now faced with a dilemma. He could stay and find out the painful demise he would meet under the hands of these crazy men, or he could die from a gunshot wound trying to save himself. 

Blaine stared into the empty hallway, ruminating on the possibilities of each choice. Neither sounded great, but the second option offered a glimmer of hope that he would survive. The more it raced through his mind, the stronger the effect of the adrenaline on his system. His heart pounded in his chest and his palms began to sweat. He made a quick glance to his right to assure that his captors were distracted. It was now or never. 

A burst of energy from his legs launched him from the chair faster than he thought he could move. His hope was killed shortly after approaching the threshold. The mixture of fear and excitement had left him deaf to the footsteps that approached the apartment. He was stopped in his tracks by another large man who grabbed a fistful of Blaine’s shirt. While trying to pry the man’s cement grip off of him, Blaine’s eyes met his new assailant’s. His heart nearly went from beating a mile a minute to launching out of his mouth. He was now staring down the same man who had chased him and Kurt down the alley. The same man who had tackled him and punched him in the face. 

A deep, guttural laugh escaped this behemoth’s mouth as he grabbed Blaine around the throat and started pushing him back into the apartment,

“Wohin gehst du, kleiner Vogel?”*

The rest of them chuckled as this man easily moved Blaine back to his place on the chair. The laughter continued like a group of bullies surrounding the school nerd. Blaine was trying to catch his breath from the sudden abuse, and these men thought it amusing. 

Elias and Christian approached the man as they greeted each other with a side hug. Elias turned mockingly to Blaine and, gesturing toward the new visitor said,

“And this is Benjamin, another of my trustworthy friends.” 

Blaine crossed his arms in front of him, his muscles like cement. Why the hell would he care what their names were? Their intentions made these friendly introductions unwarranted. 

Benjamin had finished fastening his Bowie knife to his belt when Blaine heard yet another set of footsteps approaching the door. His heart almost stopped. What if it was Kurt? Elias had successfully caused Blaine to drop his phone in the bathroom, so he had no clue if his lover had received his message. He pulled at his hair, messing up the careful job he had done gelling and combing it. 

“Hello, Blaine.” 

He froze. This was just getting worse and worse. As his eyes moved from his lap to the eyes of the person at the door, he could feel himself coming close to gagging. A neatly tailored business suit adorned the body of the newest visitor. 

“...Peter.” Blaine’s voice came out in a whisper. Peter said nothing else and walked to the window. When he looked out, Blaine knew that he was keeping watch for Kurt. The music continued to play from the iStereo close to where Peter stood. He noticed the sound and flinched, looking for its source. Once his eyes locked on the mini stereo, he grabbed it and threw it to the floor. Blaine jumped in his seat as he watched the pieces explode in all directions.

He felt helpless. He couldn’t warn his betrothed. He hoped that Kurt had received his message and would stay away. However, his boyfriend was stubborn and protective. No matter how many times Blaine told him to avoid coming, he would come running. 

“How about you three go stand watch by the front door, meine Freunde.”**

Immediately, the three men disappeared out the door toward the entrance to the building. Blaine risked a look at Elias, who stood at the kitchen table, leaning on one of the chairs and smiling back at him. He shrugged and approached him,

“Really, Blaine. I’m sorry.” when he reached for Blaine’s shoulder, he recoiled and sneered.

“No, you're not.”

********

The subway was moving like lava. Never had Kurt felt so incredibly anxious and helpless. Thankfully the subway was quiet tonight, leaving no bystanders to witness his troubling behavior. He was so wrapped up in his worry that he had not heard the notification of the message from Blaine only minutes ago. When the subway car finally stopped at his station, he raced out the door, almost knocking over a passer by. Normally he would have felt guilty for it, but he had more pressing matters at the moment. 

As he ran past the coffee stand, he and Ignacio met eyes. A look of horror was printed on the barista’s face as he knew exactly what was happening. He could infer it not only from Kurt’s expression but in the fact that he was running for his life. It was almost like Ignacio could read his mind. 

The apartment was only a block away. Before he reached the front steps, he felt an urge to check his phone. His heart almost stopped. "Oh, God, how could I have forgotten to look at it?" he thought. He could only imagine what his eyes would see when he checked it. It was then that he realized he should stop and think about what he was doing, instead of running in mindlessly. 

Stopping about half a block from the apartment, he pulled out the pepper spray from his coat pocket and stuffed it into the back of his pants. He hoped that his shirt and vest were good enough to hide it as he pulled them over the slightly obvious canister. It was better than nothing. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was about 4:45 P.M. He had about fifteen minutes to get Blaine and get their asses out of there before Elias was to arrive.

As he approached the door, he pulled out his phone to check his message. He almost dropped his phone when he read the text from Blaine.

_ <<ELIAS CAME EARLY. HE IS DIE STÄRKE. I THINK HE KNOWS I KNOW. DON’T COME. CALL THE COPS!>> _

Everything happened so quickly, Kurt didn't know what hit him. One second he was checking his phone and the next he was being pulled through the entrance and slammed against the wall. Immediately he felt the air being forced from his lungs as he slouched over and coughed. A massive hand grabbed his throat and pulled him back up. He was faced with a monster of a man, standing at least six foot four inches. Based on the grip he had around his throat, Kurt could tell this man was dangerously strong. 

Another hand came into view from the left and snatched his phone from his hand. Kurt turned to face this other person and his eyes nearly popped out of his skull. Benjamin laughed cheekily at him and turned to his monstrous friend,

“Er kennt mich.”*** 

The two men shared a laugh as Benjamin threw the phone to the floor and stomped on it, leaving a pile of plastic and glass shards behind. 

“Welcome home, Kurt.” 

He looked past his two captors to see another familiar face standing at the closed door of the apartment. He felt sick to his stomach. It was all starting to make sense. Elias was charming, and handsome, and a manipulative bastard who obviously didn’t work alone. 

Christian grabbed Kurt by the back of the neck and made him walk toward Peter at the door. Were he alone, he would have started fighting back with all of his might. But he couldn’t leave Blaine alone with these men. If he got away now, they would surely kill him. 

Once he was face to face with Peter, he began to tremble. His shoulder bag and coat were removed and tossed aside. He could feel his heartbeat in his temples as a layer of sweat coated his hands. Peter lifted the Bowie knife and placed it to Kurt’s cheek. He shut his eyes tightly, afraid of what physical pain was about to come. 

“Come, Kurt. Save your prince.”

The sliding door moved quickly to the right and Kurt was hit with the realization that this may be his and Blaine’s last night on this Earth. He hoped that Garret would keep his promise and send them help before it was too late.


	7. Animal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, everyone. Blaine and Kurt are tested in a way they never thought possible. Only one thing will help them to survive this...their promise to protect one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a tough one, friends. I would like to issue a disclaimer that I do NOT endorse any of what Elias and his men say in this chapter. Unfortunately, there were (and still are) those who blindly believe it. Kurt and Blaine will have to endure the worst. Just remember, love wins!
> 
> WARNINGS:  
> -Violence (graphic at times)  
> -Hate speech  
> -Cussing
> 
> Language notes (for some reason, the superscripts didn't translate from Google Docs so the German will have numbers in parentheses):  
> Nein = no (this one is said a few times)  
> 1\. Soll ich es ihm sagen? = Should I tell him?  
> 2\. Ja = Yes  
> 3\. Wir werden anfangen = We shall begin  
> 4\. sünder = sinner  
> 5\. Entferne ihn = Remove him  
> 6\. Genug! = Enough!

“Ah, it is Kurt. Welcome home, knight.” 

Kurt shivered at the feeling of the massive, clammy hand on the back of his neck. Not only was he disgusted by the physical contact, but he was very much aware of the power behind this man’s grip. One simple gesture and Kurt knew his neck could easily be broken.

“I am so glad you decided to join us.” Elias said with enthusiasm. 

He stood behind one of the kitchen chairs that had been placed near the center of the room. Blaine was sitting in this chair, his face scrunched up in pain and anger as Elias held it in a vice grip. His other hand held a Bowie knife to his throat. Blaine’s hands gripped his assailant’s arms, trying to pull them off, but failing. When the leader noticed that Kurt was surveying the situation, he made sure to tighten his grip on Blaine’s face, making him react with a cry of discomfort. 

“I think it’s time that he join his lover over here, wouldn’t you say fellas?” Elias smiled, exchanging glances with his three friends who had situated themselves around the living and kitchen areas. 

“Shouldn’t I check him for weapons first, Herr Weber?” 

The two men then began discussing things in German. Kurt took a moment to survey his surroundings in hopes that he could find an escape. Peter stood to the left, near the stove. It appeared that he had moved a long metal rod onto the stovetop, its end on top of one of the burners. In Peter’s hand was a Bowie knife similar to that in Elias’s. He twirled it around with his finger on the tip. On the table, Kurt could see other instruments of torture including duct tape and rope. His heart skipped a beat as he recalled the details Garret had shared about being bound and gagged.

The large man behind him was beginning to search his garments for any hidden weapons. Kurt could not stand the thought of this man touching him at all, let alone all over his body. The taste of bile crept into his mouth as Christian’s hand reached into the back of his pants and pulled out the pepper spray can. Christian held it up for his comrades to see and was answered by a chorus of laughter. A swift toss caused the can to disappear somewhere on the other side of the apartment.

“Wow, the kitty has claws. I like my prey with some fight in it. Keep going, friend.” Elias ordered while regarding Kurt with a playful and demanding expression. Kurt had to focus on something else so he continued to survey the situation.

Benjamin stood to the right of Blaine, close to the couch with his arms folded in an authoritative manner. Kurt noticed a bulge near the right side of his waist which could only indicate he was carrying a firearm. The odds of him and Blaine escaping this unscathed were becoming less and less likely. 

Kurt’s awareness was brought back to the iron grip of Christian’s hand around the back of his neck as he was pushed toward an empty chair next to Blaine. As soon as his bottom hit the seat, and Blaine was released from Elias’s grip, they wrapped their arms tightly around each other. Tears streamed down their faces and their sobs filled the apartment. 

“I was scared shitless when I got to the apartment. I saw him,” when they broke from the hug, Kurt motioned with his head toward Christian, “and I assumed the worst.” Kurt placed his hand on Blaine’s cheek, caressing it affectionately. Blaine put his own hand on Kurt’s and squeezed it tightly. He leaned his face in to whisper in Kurt’s ear,

“In case we die, I want you to know that I love you.” 

They were forced apart by Benjamin and Christian with a violent shove against the back of their chairs. They could have sworn that their hearts stopped beating when they each heard a gun being cocked next to their heads. Blaine’s eyes moved to the right and they were met with the image of a suppressed gun barrel resting on his shoulder. Christian was amused by his captive’s expression and began to playfully wave the gun in Blaine’s face, giggling like a child as he did so. 

“Are you scared, little bird?” he mocked. Blaine shrugged him off, knowing very well that he may anger his aggressor. 

“Not so much scared as annoyed. Fuck off, asshole.” he grunted. With lighting speed, the back of Christian’s hand met Blaine’s face, causing him to jerk sideways into Kurt. His lover tried to comfort him by taking the hand that wasn’t now trying to caress his injured cheek. 

“Are you okay?” he whispered. Blaine didn’t answer. His eyes closed as he tried to collect his courage and he nodded. This time Benjamin laughed,

“Aww, how sweet. The poor baby is hurt and mommy is helping him,” he was joined in the collection of laughter by Christian and Peter. Elias simply smiled as he pulled up his own chair, turned the back towards the boys and straddled it in order to face them. 

“By the way, Peter, how is it over at,” Blaine made quotation gestures with his fingers, “The Times? Oh, and have you broken in that new keyboard yet? I hope it malfunctions and electrocutes you.” The sarcasm was palpable. The four of them found it amusing.

Peter shook his finger at Blaine,

“Oh, tsk tsk. That’s not very nice.”

“Don’t make me laugh.” Kurt interjected. He was answered only with a stern glance and the raising of an eyebrow. Kurt turned his attention to the leader, “So, when did this start? Before or after the diner?” 

Elias took his time answering him. He sat quietly in his chair, mindlessly fiddling with the arming mechanism of his gun. The rest of the gang stayed in their spots, waiting for orders from their captain. Benjamin and Christian were having fun aggravating Kurt and Blaine by moving the barrels of their guns from one shoulder to the other. Blaine was certain he could smell something burning, giving him the impression that the weapon had been recently used. 

“Soll ich es ihm sagen?”(1) Christian asked his boss. 

“Ja.”(2) the one word mustered response caused Christian to walk around from behind Blaine in order to face him. He knelt down in front of him and observed how uncomfortable it made him. Blaine refused to make eye contact and Christian was having none of that. Using the barrel of his gun, he placed it under Blaine’s chin and lifted his head in order to look at him. “I’ll give you a hint, little bird. Train car.” 

“You have been following us around since the story first aired?” Kurt’s voice was angry and incredulous. Elias shook his head and wiggled his finger,

“Nein. That was the first time your Blaine saw one of us. The news was very late in noticing our presence in this city. We have made ourselves quite comfortable. Christian here has been riding the train for weeks. It was a great place for him to find sinners. We were aware of your relationship months ago. Perhaps as early as Blaine moving in.”

“Then why wait so long?” 

“Because I know you aren’t a fool, Kurt. You won’t let a stranger into your house. I had to ease my way in. Make you trust me. Well, me and Peter.” Elias’s comrades chuckled. Blaine turned to Peter who just blew him a kiss sardonically. He rolled his eyes and shivered in disgust. 

“We also had a little...outside assistance, if you will.” Elias added. Blaine and Kurt eyed each other, their faces emoting worry and confusion. Kurt didn’t move his head, but searched the faces of the rest of the gang, trying to glean some information from them. He was left with nothing. 

“Who the hell did you get to?” 

Elias leaned back in the chair, stretching his arms and yawning. Apparently, this conversation was beginning to bore him. After returning to his original position, he smirked,

“It’s amazing what you can learn about someone from their favorite barista.” 

Kurt and Blaine looked ready to jump from their seats and tackle the man. Blaine had to stifle himself, not wanting to make the situation worse by shouting. Kurt tried to lean forward, hoping to appear as the more powerful of the two. The forceful grip of the German behind him proved that false. 

“What did you do to him?” 

Elias put his hands up in mock surrender,

“Nothing he won’t recover from. Just ruffled his feathers a bit…” Christian interrupted,

“Or made him piss his pants with terror…” he began to chuckle until he looked at the angry eyes of his captain. Blaine and Kurt could tell that he had these men on a leash. One look from the leader and Christian was silenced immediately. 

“He just told us where you went to school and where you worked. That’s all we got from him. And this was after giving him some, let’s call it, persuasion.” 

“Your beef is with us, not him. Leave him out of it.” Blaine demanded.

Elias smiled and pointed at him,

“We have no reason to involve him anymore, so consider your comment a reminder to tie up loose ends. By the way, Blaine, I love how you are the one thinking he can give orders in here.” Elias stood from his chair and approached Blaine, bending over so their noses were centimeters apart. Blaine backed away, but couldn't get far being stuck in the chair. “Now it’s time for you to listen to me.” A pregnant pause shrouded the apartment in an eerie silence. Blaine was caught by surprise when Elias’s hand whipped around quickly and made contact with his cheek, causing his head to turn painfully. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply and turned back to face his attacker. 

“I admire your courage, little bird.” 

“I believe it may be story time, Herr Weber. Do you agree?” Benjamin inquired. His captain nodded and backed up a few paces from his prey. He removed his blazer and methodically folded it to fit the space of the chair seat. When he turned back to his captives, he opened his arms in front of him as if he was about to give a speech. 

“Oh God, please don’t tell me you’re going to sing?” Kurt’s comment earned him a rough push from behind. When the barrel of the gun was digging into his back, he took that as a signal to keep his comments to himself. 

“I believe I mentioned that I was born just outside of Berlin. Actually, all of us were. But Berlin is no longer the beautiful place it once was. In its prime, it was populated only with the best of humanity. The purest, Aryan race. Now it has become soft, decadent even. Now it’s populated with these people who wish to taint the bloodlines. Bloodlines ordained by our creator, may I add.” Elias approached the pair again, reaching out and grabbing their chins, “People like you, if I may be blunt.” 

Blaine and Kurt tried their best not to gag. They couldn’t believe how archaic this man was sounding. Both of them forced their jaws from his grip. Elias didn’t seem to care as he continued,

“You see, my grandfather, Eric, he was a very powerful man. Hitler held him and his kind in high regard. He helped to carry out the Reich’s mission of cleansing the nation. He was one of Hitler’s best. An SS Guard, he was. And, after the war, he was wrongfully put to death. But not before passing on this doctrine to his very own son, my father. I loved my father. He taught me that our race was hand picked to bring this planet to its greatest potential. It was our responsibility to preserve only the strongest among us, and that was the race of Aryan superiority.”

“But, my father was seen as psychotic. When he tried to recruit more soldiers for his own army, to continue the mission of the Reich, he was shunned. Our family had to find a place that agreed with our beliefs. Let me tell you, it was not easy. When we found ourselves moving through South America, we discovered more families of the Reich. We would find each other in time,” he gestured toward his four fellow gang members who appeared to stand up taller with pride. “You see, our fathers all shared the same creed and had spread themselves across the globe. Mine was successful for a time, until he was taken out by Argentine law enforcement in a shootout. My father died gloriously, living out his mission.”

Kurt rolled his eyes and sighed heavily, crossing his arms in front of him. When was this self-glorifying horror story going to be over? He started to scan the room for some kind of escape. Unfortunately, the men had scattered themselves around in a way that left no exits. Every scenario that he played in his head led to his or both of their deaths. He would just have to ride it out until Garret came through. 

“It wasn’t until I moved to the United States under the guise of a foreign exchange student that I met Peter. We met each other in a sea of strangers. I think it was a sign, my friend.” 

Peter nodded, “It was indeed a sign. A sign that we must continue our fathers’ missions.”

“Peter and I were determined to find more followers. Thanks to social media, we were able to secure two chiefs and our brotherhood was complete.” 

To Kurt and Blaine’s horror, Elias began to unbutton his shirt. As more skin was revealed, they were faced with the dreaded image of a swastika tattooed largely over his torso. The top of it began at his sternum and covered him to just above his navel. The image was painted dark, etching itself into him like it was part of his soul. The pair just looked on in utter disbelief. It was then that the rest of the gang followed suit, revealing their solidarity with matching swastikas on their own chests. Kurt had had enough,

“Uh oh, boys, be careful. Aren’t you afraid you might catch the gay if you expose yourselves to other men?” he said sarcastically. He rolled his eyes and scoffed again. The gang exchanged glances and smiled mischievously at one another. As Elias began to refasten the buttons on his shirt, he nodded, 

“I admire your courage, Kurt. It may help you get through tonight,” Elias knelt down in front of him while slipping back into his blazer and continued, “You two are lucky, my friends,” Blaine was looking daggers at him, “My father believed that the best way to cleanse was to remove the tainted blood. He asked no questions. The shootout that took his life? He was cleansing the small town we lived in of the only sinful Juden family. His last breath was spent giving this world what it deserved. A cleaner species. I have a slightly different view of this cleansing. I always give my sinners a chance to repent and change their ways. And I am giving that opportunity to you.” 

“Oh, you’re so kind.” Blaine responded facetiously. 

“This loving other men thing is just unnatural. Don’t you see? If the Almighty wanted men to love men and women to love women, we wouldn't have a human race. But, I am giving you both a chance to realize the error of your ways and repent. You have the opportunity to do what is right.”

Kurt’s face was showing utter disgust. He couldn’t believe the excrement that was coming out of this man’s mouth. What psychological disorder would cause someone to take another person’s life over such superficial, narrow- minded ideals? He shook his head and gave Elias a glare of indomitable will,

“So you think that being gay is just a matter of turning a switch on and off? I can’t believe what I am hearing and I think I may vomit.”

The words Kurt had said that day in movements class were now coming to light. He most definitely would not go down quietly. He wasn’t going to give these men an inch. Blaine looked at his fiance and he felt warmth in him. It was a warmth of admiration. 

Elias looked at the floor in a gesture of disappointment. He sat there for what felt like an eternity and did nothing. His body had become a statue. Kurt and Blaine didn’t move, but they also did not falter in their looks of pure defiance. They did not want to give any of these men an ounce of satisfaction. 

When Elias lifted his head, he gestured to Christian and Benjamin by waving his hand in a halfhearted manner,

“Wir werden anfangen”(3)

Blaine felt an uncomfortable pull from behind him as he realized Christian was yanking him forcefully from his chair. Shortly after the chair was moved away, he was violently forced to kneel. Kurt remained standing after Benjamin had pushed him off of his chair. Peter walked over to the table, took one of the bundles of rope and, strolling over to Kurt, handed it to him expectantly. Kurt looked on in confusion and then shrugged his shoulders,

“What the hell am I supposed to…”

“Tie him up, sünder.”(4) Elias interrupted him sternly, pointing at Blaine. Kurt turned to his betrothed and his stomach dropped. He couldn’t be serious. Blaine was looking at Elias with an expression of disbelief that quickly evolved into anguish. Kurt looked down at the rope in his hands and hesitated. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and tried to muster up as much courage as he could. He and Blaine began a silent conversation. They knew that this was not something either of them wanted, but they were left with no other options. 

“No. I won’t do your dirty work for you.” Kurt spat, and threw the rope bundle to the ground. 

In a split second, Christian’s fist was buried in Blaine’s abdomen, forcing all of the air from his lungs in an instant. Time stood still for a moment. His face came forward, almost touching his knees. One hand touched the floor in a feeble attempt to keep him upright. The other arm wrapped around his abdomen, trying to will his organs to continue functioning. His lungs were completely paralyzed. They felt like they had been filled with cement. He could not take in a breath in the slightest. Adrenaline flowed through his veins as panic began to set in. Kurt knelt down by his side and gently rubbed his back with one of his hands. 

“Blaine, say something. What’s happening?” 

Elias stomped his foot and balled his left hand into a tight fist. He approached Kurt, shaking his fist in his face,

“Let it be known that any time either of you go against my orders, you will watch your lover suffer. Understand?” 

The room was filled with the sound of Blaine coughing and gasping for breath. Kurt tried to return the same amount of confidence at Elias, but could only look on as tears welled up in his eyes. When they streamed down his cheeks, he saw the evil look of satisfaction grace the face of his captor. 

After a couple of minutes of his fiance trying to comfort him, Blaine was able to sit up on his knees again and look Kurt in the eye. 

“It’s okay, Kurt. Do what they say. I don’t want them to hurt you, too.” Kurt nodded, stroking his lover’s face with the outside of his hand and then stood. He eyed Elias only with a dead stare,

“Go to hell.” 

“No, Kurt. That is where you and Blaine are trying NOT to go tonight.”

The four men erupted in laughter at Benjamin’s comment. Kurt stood still and tried his best not to react. 

Christian came forward and gestured toward the floor with the barrel of his gun,

“Lie down on your stomach, little bird.” he ordered. Fearing a repeat of the pain he had just felt, Blaine obliged. He turned his head to the side and rested his cheek against the wood floor. Placing his palms against the floor on either side of his head showed his complete submission. Christian turned to Kurt, “Tie his ankles. Make sure it is tight, or we will just cause him more pain.” 

Kurt bent over, collected the bundle of rope and, as he began to unravel it, he knelt down at Blaine’s feet. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes again as he began to wrap the rope around his lover’s ankles. He could only imagine how uncomfortable and scared Blaine was at this moment. He hated that he had to be the one to deliver this kind of humiliation to the one he loved more than anyone else. 

The rope made six tight loops before Kurt tied it off tightly. He was about to stand when another bundle of rope was tossed in front of him. 

He looked up at Elias who nodded and gestured at Blaine with his hand,

“Now his hands, knight.” 

Kurt looked down and shook his head as he forced himself to move up toward Blaine’s hands. Blaine crossed his hands above his head. Just as Kurt touched them, he heard a sound of displeasure from Christian,

“Nein. Behind his back.” 

Kurt exhaled in anguish, and whispered under his breath, “Oh my god, I don’t know if I can do this to you.” Blaine closed his eyes,

“It’s okay, Kurt. I don’t blame you,” without hesitation, he crossed his wrists behind his back, “do what you have to do.” Kurt proceeded to wrap the rope tightly around Blaine’s wrists, feeling horrible every time he saw him flinch from the discomfort. Blaine felt the scratchiness of the rope against his skin and his stomach dropped. Their captors were not taking any chances and he knew that, once Kurt was finished, he may not be leaving this apartment. 

Kurt stood up and backed away from Blaine as soon as he had finished securing him. Christian reached down and checked that the ropes were secure. After pulling on them several times and moving Blaine’s arms in uncomfortable positions, he looked up at Kurt and chuckled at him,

“Not bad for a fairy,” he spat condescendingly. He grabbed the material of Blaine’s collar and forced him back up to his knees. 

Benjamin appeared behind Kurt and forced him to kneel, binding his hands just like Blaine’s. The two lovers looked at each other as a source of comfort. Kurt sent Blaine messages of guilt and Blaine sent back messages of forgiveness. 

“I’m sorry,” Kurt mouthed to him. Blaine shook his head, “It’s okay. I love you,” he mouthed back. 

They were both stopped by the sound of duct tape being ripped from the roll. Blaine turned his head toward the table only to be met with the uncomfortable sensation of cloth and glue against his lips. A large piece of tape was secured over his mouth followed by a significant slap to the face. The strong stench of the adhesive combined with the sting of the slap made him wince. His painful cry was muffled by the gag as Kurt received the same treatment. 

“We can’t have our neighbors hearing the fun we are about to have,” Elias commented. 

Blaine was caught by surprise as Christian worked his hands under his armpits and lifted him up into one of the kitchen chairs. The chair was turned toward the bedroom area. Shortly after, he heard the duct tape being pulled from the roll again as a large strip appeared from behind and was secured to his chest. Christian proceeded to wrap the tape around him and the chair several times, pinning his arms painfully between him and the furniture. Once he was secured, Elias stood, approached Kurt menacingly and removed his Bowie knife from its sheath. 

“Let’s begin, shall we, my dear. It is time for your cleansing.” 

Kurt tried to protest, but he was pushed past the privacy curtain of his and Blaine’s bedroom and forced violently onto the bed. Blaine watched on in horror, trying to berate them, but his cries only came out as muffles. He was made to watch the torture that Kurt was about to endure. 

Pulling at the rope around his wrists and the tape securing him to the chair proved to be futile. He was not going anywhere and he was helpless to do anything, The promise he had made to his fiance that day in class would go unkempt. He wouldn’t let them continue quietly, though. He thrashed as hard as he could against his bonds and screamed into his gag. Unfortunately it was only met with childish laughter by the other three captors. 

Kurt was paralyzed under Elias’s weight with his hands being crushed painfully under him. His long, muscular legs straddled him over his thighs, pinning him to the mattress. The Bowie knife rested on Kurt’s cheek, making him suck in a breath of fear through his nostrils and shut his eyes tightly. 

“Now, you have the choice to make this stop, knight. All you have to do is confess your sins to the Almighty and you shall be set free.” Kurt kept his eyes shut and shook his head. He screamed in horror as the tip of the Bowie knife was beginning to dig into the skin on his cheek. After a very short pause, Kurt felt the knife repeat the same motion on the other cheek. Elias laughed as he moved the knife gingerly toward the buttons on Kurt’s top. With swift movements, he removed the first three buttons and pulled the material apart, exposing Kurt’s chest. 

Blaine began to shake his head from the chair and pulled on the tape around his body, trying desperately to help his fiance. Christian just laughed and, grabbing the chair, moved him a bit closer to the scene. 

“Come now, Kurt. You must be having second thoughts.” the knife moved gracefully as it opened up a cut on Kurt’s chest...followed by a second...and a third. Even though the cuts were shallow, blood began to pool around them, soaking the surrounding skin and his shirt. After the cuts were freshly made, Elias made sure to dig the knife into them, activating the pain receptors. Kurt took a deep breath through his nostrils again and then looked at Elias with determination. He screamed what sounded like a muffled “FUCK YOU” at him and let his head fall limply against the mattress. 

Elias laughed and leaned back, sitting on Kurt’s legs. He wrapped both hands around the handle of the Bowie knife and began to lift it above his head. This triggered an eruption of objections from Blaine who continued to scream from the chair. Kurt closed his eyes. This was it. The knife was going to be his demise. He hoped it would be fast. 

He could feel the muscles in Elias’s legs tighten, as he brought the knife down quickly. A grunt of sickening satisfaction told Kurt that his task had been executed. He felt no pain, however. The sound of torn fabric reached his left ear. Risking a look, he opened his eyes and turned his head only to see the knife buried in the mattress next to his head. He was not given much time to celebrate the fact that he was still alive. Elias began raining down forceful punches on what seemed to be every surface of Kurt’s body. He felt his knuckles bury themselves into his face, his abdomen, his chest and his arms. New bruises and scrapes began to form over the old ones as Elias showed little to no signs of stopping. 

He turned his gaze toward Blaine, his eyes saying “I love you,” “I’m sorry,” and “It will be okay,” all at the same time. He took solace in the fact that he would not have to watch Blaine suffer anymore, for his life would soon be extinguished. The last punch caused the entire room to spin and sounds to come to his ears with a faint echo. He heard Blaine’s pained voice from between the privacy curtains and wished he could say he loved him. The blurred image of the floor got bigger and bigger as his body met the wood surface next to the bed. But he didn’t black out. He wasn’t dead yet. His head was screaming, as were his limbs and torso. He couldn’t imagine the mosaic of purples and blues that now colored his body. Elias surely didn’t hold back in his abuse. 

Kurt closed his eyes. The brightness of the lights in the apartment were making his head ache more, and he couldn’t take it. He felt two hands grab handfuls of his shirt and they began to drag him back to the living area of the apartment, next to his crying fiance. Once the grip of his aggressors was released, Kurt just stayed as still as possible. Every slight movement only brought him more pain. 

“Entferne ihn,”(5) Elias’s voice reached Kurt’s ears, but he knew nothing of what his words meant. The next thing he noticed was the sound of tape being ripped and Blaine’s voice coming closer to him. He could only surmise that he had been removed from his chair and back to his knees. All of this occurred to the soundtrack of Blaine’s protests which were effectively muffled. 

A hand reached under Kurt’s neck and lifted him from the floor and onto his knees. The room began to spin again, despite keeping his eyes closed. Leaning forward, Kurt let out a cleansing groan, trying to clear his lungs of the previous abuse. His head was throbbing. It hurt. The pounding in his temples just wouldn’t stop. He just wanted this to be over, but the worst part was that he knew these men were only getting started. They had only dished out a small dose to Kurt so far. He couldn’t even bring himself to think of the shit they would do to Blaine. 

The light of the room snuck in as Kurt slowly lifted his eyelids. He pushed through the pain to get a glance at his lover. Despite the tape keeping any words from escaping his lips, Blaine’s eyes spoke volumes of his love and concern for Kurt at that moment. 

Elias moved his face so close to Kurt's that the stench of his breath stung his nostrils. Kurt winced and recoiled from the discomfort. His face was handled harshly by the German's hand and made to look into his eyes. 

“What do you say now, knight? Have you had enough? Are you ready to confess that you have, in fact, just been committing a horrible sin against the Almighty? Do you swear to allow yourself to be cleansed?”

The tape was partially removed from Kurt’s lips and left hanging on one side of his face. Elias’s voice was becoming clearer and clearer with each word as Kurt realized he was regaining his senses. He stiffened his back and torso and sat up as straight as he could. He looked his captor dead in the eyes and shook his head, his lips in a straight line to show absolutely no falter in his will. 

“Go fuck yourself.” he asserted. 

Elias paused, his face showing no reaction. Kurt could not tell if he was enraged or amused. When Elias raised his hand and snapped twice, he could only imagine what that meant. The tape was quickly resecured over Kurt’s mouth. He watched as Christian approached Blaine from behind and reached out for one of his hands. Blaine began to struggle, not wanting this man to touch him. He began to panic, horrified by what was about to happen. It was then that Kurt’s ears were plagued by the sound of bones cracking under pressure. Then he listened in agony as his lover howled painfully into his gag. 

Kurt suddenly felt the entire left side of his body come in contact with the floor. Then the abuse showered over him in a continuous string of kicks to his abdomen. Pushing through the pain, he tried to catch a glimpse of Blaine to see if he was okay, but Christian and Peter were only doing the same thing to him. One of them buried his foot into Blaine’s abdomen, then walked around him only to continue the same treatment on his back. The other executed a painful assault of punches to his face. He stole a glance at his lover’s hand which showed two of his fingers turned at a sickening angle.

Both of them assumed that this was how they would die. Their assailants had had enough of their games and were ready to end the torture. They had grown bored of their captives and were content with throwing them out like trash. That was all the two of them were to these bigoted men. Useless, disgusting trash. 

Blaine was certain that he was about to black out. Christian had landed so many punches to his jaw, cheekbones, forehead and neck that he had lost count. He could taste the iron on his tongue as the abuse surely caused his gums to bleed out. He was certain that he had bit his tongue a few times in response to the pain. He would either black out and die from the shock and internal bleeding, or he would choke on his own blood, unable to spit it out with the tape covering his lips. 

“Genug!”(6) Elias’s voice brought a stop to the violence for a moment. It was long enough for Benjamin and Christian to rip the tape from Blaine and Kurt’s lips. Immediately they spat out blood in abundance and proceeded to cough uncontrollably. They sucked oxygen into their lungs like it was the last time they would have a chance. Blaine couldn’t tell, but the left side of his face, especially along his cheekbone, was beginning to form a deep bruise. A cut on his forehead bled profusely, dripping into his eyes. More blood spilled out of the corner of his mouth, which was an indication that he was either bleeding internally or Christian had loosened one or more of his teeth. He could smell iron in his nostrils, and the feeling of hot liquid just above his lip told him that his nose was also bleeding. 

He remained there, staring up at the ceiling blankly, trying desperately to catch his breath. The skin of his wrists burned and stung as the rope continued to scratch and pull at it. His ankles ached from the strain he put on them by trying to escape his bonds. 

“Just stay alive, Blaine. That’s all you have to do.” he repeated in his head, trying to convince himself that he could go on. It was interrupted as Elias’s face appeared in his line of vision, standing over him. Blaine scoffed in disgust and looked away. His face was grabbed harshly and forced to look at Elias. 

“How about we ask the little bird what he thinks,” he said mockingly, “are you ready to be cleansed?” 

With a furrowed brow, Blaine mustered all of the strength he had left and sat up so he was nose to nose with Elias,

“Fuck you,” he spat a healthy portion of blood onto his aggressor’s face and fell limply onto the floor. His moment of rest was not long. Shortly after Elias backed away and wiped his face of the saliva and blood, he approached Blaine once more and brought his foot harshly against his abdomen again and again. When he stopped after five doses of the abuse, Blaine barely had time to recuperate before he felt two hands envelop his throat in a vice grip. 

“No! Let him go! He can’t breathe, take your hands off him!” Kurt’s voice sounded as if it were coming from far away. Blaine was beginning to lose awareness as he could not bring air into his lungs. His heartbeat pounded in his temples and Elias leaned in harder. He pulled Blaine’s face to within millimeters of his own and it was then that Blaine witnessed the unbridled rage in this man’s eyes. He had absolutely no remorse for what he was doing and his actions were fueled by pure animalistic fury. 

“Herr Weber!” Peter yelled, bringing his comrade back to reality. His snap back from his trance caused him to release Blaine from his grip. His captive collapsed and remained still for a moment.

Kurt watched Blaine hit the floor and then proceed to gasp in mouthfuls of air. He moved to his side and doubled over, coughing profusely and bringing up more blood from his mouth. The breathing patterns resembled those of an individual who had just come back from the verge of drowning. Strangely enough, Kurt was happy to hear him gasping. It meant he was still alive and he was still fighting. 

Christian only gave him a few seconds and then forced Blaine back to his knees. Kurt felt the rough hands of Benjamin moving him into a similar position. He leaned in closely, using his shoulder to help steady his fiance. Moving his mouth close to Blaine’s ear, he whispered,

“I’m here. I’m not leaving you.”

Blaine seemed to be leaning toward the affection. Kurt was his anchor to the familiar and the comfortable. Kurt answered in kind by resting his cheek on the top of Blaine’s head. It was the only hug he could muster in his bound state. All either of them wanted to do at this moment was to disappear. What had either of them done to deserve this treatment? They had loved each other. They loved each other and they were both men. Why was that a sin? How could there be such prejudiced people in this world? Why was a certain type of love so evil? Because it didn’t fit in a particular box?

Kurt was aware of Elias standing next to him, holding the Bowie knife dangerously close to his face. At that moment he didn’t care. His attention was focused on Blaine and his well being. Elias was speaking to him but he heard nothing. His priority was assuring his fiance could breathe. He watched Blaine’s chest moving in and out, in and out, while hoping that he could continue to ignore his attacker without consequence. 

“That’s it, focus on your breathing. You’ve got this.” he whispered into Blaine’s ear. The dark haired man lifted his head, expelling a lot of energy to do so, and looked into Kurt’s eyes. His face looked back in agony, letting Kurt know that he just wanted all of this to be over. 

“Don’t give up, Blaine. I’m not going to let you give up. Remember what I told you? I’ve said it so many times. I'm Never saying goodbye to you” 

The feel of cold steel on his face made him stop with a loud gasp. Kurt looked at Blaine again, who matched his fear with wide eyes, staring at the Bowie knife now resting against his face. All he wanted to do was to grab it and rip it away, and he pulled on the rope around his wrists. He risked a look at the German and he felt the blood drain from his face. No emotion existed in this man’s face. He was a stone.

He uttered something in German and then moved the knife to rest against Kurt’s ribcage on the left side of his body. Thanks to the shirt that had been ripped open, there was clear access to Kurt’s skin. He could still feel the coldness of the steel and made sure he kept stock still. The blade shook against his skin and Kurt began to wonder if Elias was afraid of what he was about to do. 

“Haven’t you had enough of this?” Kurt asserted as he stared into the German’s blue eyes. It was then that he realized the knife wasn’t trembling from his fear, but his unbridled rage. Kurt was trying to think of what else to say when he felt the cold steel slash across his ribcage, digging in deeply as it moved. He doubled over, half out of self protection, the other out of shock. 

“Kurt!” Blaine’s voice echoed in his ears.

At first, he felt no pain. He was completely paralyzed by what had happened, mostly because he couldn't get a good look at the extent of the damage. He tried looking at his midsection, but could only see torn clothing. That’s when the Bowie knife appeared on the other side of his body and once again moved in the swift motion. Kurt saw more of his clothing get torn and this time felt the cold sting of the metal against his skin. The Bowie knife was stained red, with drops of his blood flowing from the tip and finally staining the wood floor below it. 

“I think it is clear that we cannot cure these sinners. It is time to prepare them for their penance. We will always be the superior race and these poor shits will never know what it means to feel our greatness. You may begin, Peter.” The tone of Elias’s voice was condescending and arrogant. He gestured to his lieutenant who stood waiting next to the kitchen stove. Not moments after receiving orders from his captain, Peter turned the knob on the front of the stove, causing the flames of the burner to dance to life. The edge of the metal rod, which had been laid there previously, was engulfed in fire and quickly changing from black to red.

“Oh God,” Kurt thought to himself, “this is it. Garret said this was what they did right before they planned to kill them. Blaine and I have a narrow window to get out of this.” 

“You’re wrong.” Kurt was caught off guard. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Blaine was speaking. 

Elias looked at him with curiosity. His face seemed to be offering Blaine the challenge of continuing. 

“Oh? Why is that, little bird?” Elias asked, sounding almost playful.

Despite having endured so many injuries up till now, with his face displaying the result, Blaine did not falter in his words. Kurt had the inkling that Blaine was also aware of this possibly being their last moments. He was going to say what he had to say with confidence, authority even. 

“You dicks are so obsessed with making everyone as good as you. And you wonder why there are so few of you left. Well, it’s because you have failed. That’s why you fled from Germany and that's why your fathers were defeated. You can’t change us because we will always be better than you and your intolerance. All you’re doing right now is holding on to hope that you won’t have to feel so petty and insignificant in your sad little lives. You have to remove the people who make you look like monsters. Well, guess what? There will always be more of us. And love will always win, no matter how many of us you try to cleanse. You are more alone than you think.” 

Kurt could see the skin on Elias’s face turn red. He was afraid that, in no time at all, Blaine would be at the receiving end of a very unpleasant punishment for his remarks. 

“You’re nothing,” with a scoff, he finished his speech with a resolute, “and I pity you.” 

“They’re just cowards, aren’t they, Blaine? Cowards who prey on the innocence of others. They know they will never have what we have, so they have to take it from us. I pity them too.” he and Blaine exchanged glances and nodded in agreement before Blaine turned back toward the German. 

No words were exchanged. Elias and Blaine were locked in a nonverbal argument with their eyes burning into one another. The rest of the captors looked on in both bewilderment and disgust. What felt like hours were actually seconds before Blaine realized he was being held around the shoulders from behind. Elias moved swiftly and reached out with an iron grip on the front of Blaine’s shirt. A forceful tug separated the buttons from the seams. Elias pulled it open, exposing his chest. Blaine was about to protest when Christian’s free hand clamped over his mouth and pulled his head back, immobilizing him. 

He couldn’t see anything but the textured paint on the ceiling. His hands uselessly pulled at the rope as he made a futile attempt to spit out protests from behind Christian’s hand. And then the pain hit him like a train. The searing, white hot agony that was literally burning into his skin. The broken fingers from moments before were a walk in the park compared to the horror he was now experiencing. And just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, his nostrils were plagued by the scent of burning flesh. The smoke from the hot metal brand rose into the air making Blaine come close to vomiting. He screamed with all the power he had left in his lungs. He screamed like his life depended on it. He screamed until he had no voice and he was thrown onto the floor like a ragdoll. 

Kurt could only try to protest as he watched all of this torture unfold. Benjamin had walked up behind him and held him tightly in his arms, silencing him with his hand over his mouth. When he finally saw Blaine fall to the floor with his mouth open but no longer able to scream, he just wanted to go to him. He wanted to hold him and tell him that everything would be okay. 

His thoughts were interrupted as he watched Peter approach him with the hot metal rod. He did everything he could to fight against Benjamin, but there was no way he could match his strength. He closed his eyes and waited for the pain to hit him. 

“NO! Let him go, you assholes! Stop! STOP!!!” Blaine’s hoarse and weakened protests from the floor went unheeded. 

It felt like someone was ripping the skin from his body, one layer at a time. He too let out a scream unlike anything he ever had before. The smell of his own flesh burning like meat on a spit entered his nose. The bile began to climb into his throat as he was released from Benjamin’s grip. As soon as Kurt’s body met the floor, he emptied the contents of his stomach. He mustered enough energy to turn his gaze toward Blaine, his eyes flowing with tears and his breath coming in short gasps of sadness. 

Blaine looked closely at the burn on his lover’s chest. Surrounded by a thick rectangular frame was the word “sünde.” Just like when he saw it on Garret’s skin, he did not know what it meant, but he was certain it was something demeaning and cruel. He and Kurt just stared at each other as they slumped down in a heap, nearly defeated. They had both hoped to muster enough energy to survive this hell, but at this moment they were both feeling ready to give in. 

The Germans backed away from their prey, chuckling with a feeling of triumph and satisfaction. It was short lived, however, as they were suddenly made aware of the bright flashing of red and blue lights against the darkening sky. Kurt and Blaine had also taken notice and quickly turned their gaze toward the faces of their abusers, only to receive the gratification they so deeply deserved. All four of the Germans frantically looked around at each other in a panic. Elias turned toward Kurt, who smiled,

“It looks like we have friends after all.” 

Shaking his head in disbelief, Elias began shouting orders at his subordinates in German. Blaine and Kurt were pushed onto their stomachs as Christian and Benjamin cut away the rope from their wrists and ankles. After collecting the rope from the floor, they both stuffed it into the duffel bag and made their way out the door toward the fire exit. Peter deposited the rest of the weapons, zipped up the bag and exited the apartment, closely behind his comrades. 

Blaine forced himself to his feet with the minute amount of energy that remained in his muscles. Painfully, he worked his way over to his fiance who remained in a heap on the floor. Kurt looked at him with an expression of relief that Blaine could only return. Smiling down at him, Blaine took Kurt’s hands and pulled him to his feet being careful of his broken fingers. They embraced like they would never have the chance to do so again. Kurt rested his head on Blaine’s shoulder and immediately began to sob. As the tears burned his eyes, Blaine affectionately began to stroke his lover’s back, trying his best to comfort him. 

As they both heard the shouts of law enforcement from outside the window, Elias’s voice filled the room,

“I guess I will just have to send you both to hell myself!”

Blaine turned his attention to Elias and was immediately aware of the gun pointed at them. Everything happened in a split second. Blaine placed both of his hands on Kurt’s chest and, with all his might, pushed him back toward the living room. Kurt could barely comprehend what was happening before he hit the furniture and bounced to the floor. Amidst the tumble, two loud pops stung his ears as he let out a yelp and covered himself in a defensive effort, facing away from his attacker. 

Kurt remained on the floor, holding himself and not wanting to move. He heard Elias mutter something angrily in German followed by his rushed footsteps approaching him. He had to act quickly as his eyes searched for some kind of weapon. Suddenly they fell upon the discarded pepper spray can under the coffee table. Before Elias could comprehend what was happening, Kurt had turned around and emptied the pepper spray into his face. The original plan of depositing a bullet in Kurt’s head was abandoned as he exited the apartment groaning in agony. All he could hear now was the sound of the police forcing their way through the building entrance. The apartment was otherwise silent. Silent. His heart nearly stopped as he made a sudden realization. The adrenaline in his body took away the pain for a split second as he turned back to where he had been standing moments before. 

The bile once again began to creep up into his throat as he looked at Blaine. He was sprawled on the floor with his eyes closed and two gunshot wounds in his abdomen.


	8. Come What May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt and Blaine share a tender moment as help arrives. Kurt realizes how incredibly lucky he is to have Blaine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is more on the short side. The next few will most likely be longer and may take me awhile to write. Thank you so much for all of the kudos and the interest in this story! You are all keeping me motivated to finish it! 
> 
> Warnings:  
> There are some medical terms and some graphic medical procedures mentioned in this chapter. Below are a couple of medical terms for reference if needed. 
> 
> 1\. pneumothorax = collapsed lung  
> 2\. hemoptysis = coughing up blood

In his mind, he was approaching Blaine in slow motion. Most of what he had feared had come to fruition. The hope had been to endure the maltreatment and be able to walk away. Sadly, Kurt was seeing that possibility becoming less and less likely. By the time he had made it to Blaine’s side, it felt like hours had passed. He couldn’t endure waiting to hold him but he also dreaded that he may be too late to help. 

With gentle hands on either side of Blaine’s face, Kurt stroked his cheek gently. He was careful of his left eye and cheekbone for the telltale signs of physical trauma were definitely showing. A deep purple bruise encircled his eye and his cheek was puffy, indicating that Christian had most likely broken his eye socket, his cheekbone or both. He saw the stream of blood from a wound in Blaine's forehead staining his face. With the end of his sleeve, he wiped away as much blood as he could and then continued holding Blaine's face in his hands. Despite the ugliness of the injuries, he was grateful to hear him taking in breaths, even if they were painful and shallow. 

“Blaine. Blaine, look at me. Open your eyes and show me you’re with me.”

The reaction was slow. A slight glimmer of recognition came to him in the form of a pained expression, showing only a fraction of the pain his boyfriend was now suffering. Eventually the eyelids raised to reveal the agonizing fear from his honey-colored irises. 

“K...Kurt,” his breathing was so erratic that words came out one at a time and often in syllables, “...Kurt..are...y...you...okay?” 

The blue-eyed man forced back tears. He was devastated to see his betrothed in such a position, but it was his turn to be strong. He needed Blaine to know that he was going to make it. He nodded his head vigorously,

“Yes. I am okay. Thanks to you.” when his voice began to break, he forced himself to close his eyes and regain his composure. With a gentle hand working its way through Blaine’s now messy hair, Kurt took this time to quickly assess the injuries. The bruises and swelling on his face were obvious enough. Glancing at the branded skin of his chest showed that it was beginning to blister. The darkness of it suggested that the burns had gone into the deeper layers. Then his eyes stopped at the two gunshot wounds. One was near the bottom of his rib cage on his left side, the other just right of his navel. Surprisingly, he saw less blood than he expected. It was a relief for only a moment. As Kurt surveyed the scene more, he noticed a pool of blood collecting under Blaine on his right side. He bit his tongue, trying to keep calm as he reached his hand around and gently touched his boyfriend’s back. When he heard Blaine gasp from the pain, he recoiled quickly, only to see his hand stained red. The bullet must have gone straight through him. 

“Are you Kurt?”

He jumped when he heard the authoritative voice from behind and turned to face one of the police officers. He held his weapon, but aimed it at the floor. Kurt nodded,

“Yes. Did Garret call you?”

The police officer nodded,

“He did, sir, and he told us that you would be in trouble. I see we need medical attention.” 

Kurt gestured toward his boyfriend,

“He needs it more than I do. He’s been shot twice. Please...please I don’t know what to do…” he could feel himself starting to lose it again as he bit his lip, making sure not to show any emotion to Blaine. The cop held his hand out in front of him, trying to calm Kurt down.

“It’s alright, we’ve got an ambulance outside. Garret mentioned that you may be injured, so we came prepared,” he holstered his weapon and grabbed his radio from his shoulder to call in the paramedics. Kurt turned back to his lover who continued to do his best to breathe normally. 

“Blaine, why did you do that?” Kurt asked, his forehead almost pressing against the other’s. Despite is pain, Blaine was able to lift his lips into a slight smile,

“I...had a chance...to save you...so...I...took it.” he shut his eyes tight indicating another wave of immense pain. After a few more labored breaths, he continued, “I’m glad that...at least...you...are...safe.” 

Kurt shook his head adamantly as he pressed his hands tightly around Blaine’s face again,

“Oh no, no, no, Blaine. You are not saying goodbye. I told you more than once in our McKinley days that I am never saying goodbye to you. Stay with me, dammit.”

Blaine smiled,

“I love it...when you’re...bossy.” Kurt could see Blaine’s eyes beginning to close. He was growing increasingly weaker. He also noticed that his boyfriend was beginning to shiver while a thin coat of sweat covered his brow. He grabbed one of his hands and squeezed it tightly and used the other to gently tap his lover’s face,

“Blaine, don’t go, okay. You have to stay awake.” 

Suddenly Blaine’s eyes went wide with horror. His breaths were now profound gasps for air. The longer he tried to breathe in, the less he seemed to be getting. Then the gasping turned into wheezing. He looked to Kurt for answers, but knew there was not much he could do to help.

“Kurt...it...it’s really hard...to breathe...I...can’t...get...any air…”

A collection of heavy footsteps and the sound of wheels rolling across the floor came from behind. Kurt could feel Blaine’s body going limp. He started to panic as he gently slapped his lover’s face,

“No, no, no! Blaine, wake up! WAKE UP!” as his pleas turned to shouts, two gentle hands touched his shoulders from behind. He could feel himself being pulled away and almost protested. When his eyes met those of the young woman in an EMT uniform, he knew it was best for him to back off. One of the police officers came up to him and helped him to his feet. They walked over to the kitchen table where Kurt took a seat and another EMT knelt down in front of him. He paid the woman no attention as his eyes were glued to Blaine. 

One of them began listening to Blaine’s chest with a stethoscope, lightly placing the end on either side. The young woman on his other side leaned over with her ear hovering above Blaine’s mouth. 

“He’s wheezing heavily, but still breathing. How are the breath sounds?” she turned to her colleague. He moved the stethoscope a few more times and then shook his head at her,

“I have no sounds on the left side. Likely a pneumothorax (1). Let’s start the decompression.”

Kurt was dumbfounded by the speed at which they worked. He continued to watch in admiration of their expertise and bravery. The woman reached into her medical bag and pulled out something that looked like a syringe. She pulled out the plunger on the bottom and then, with her hand palpated the area of Blaine’s chest just below his collarbone. Before she could do any more procedures, Blaine appeared to be coughing harshly, his torso tensing up. 

To Kurt’s horror, he saw dark red liquid escaping his boyfriend’s lips as he coughed. While the male EMT cleaned off his face, the woman quickly stabbed the needle into Blaine’s chest. As she backed off, they could all hear Blaine’s breathing begin to normalize. Air escaped from the syringe, relieving the stress on Blaine’s lung. 

When the male EMT placed an oxygen mask over Blaine’s nose and mouth, Kurt felt someone shaking him from his right side. He turned his attention from the horrific scene before him to the young paramedic who knelt beside him. She was talking, but the words were not making it to his ears. After a moment of confusion, he shook himself back to reality,

“I’m sorry. What did you say?” 

Her eyes were kind and her tone was very patient,

“It’s quite alright, sir. Let’s get you downstairs and into the ambulance. Do you think you can walk?”

Kurt protested at first, not moving from his spot and looked her in the eye,

“I don’t want to go unless I can stay with him,” he turned back to the scene with Blaine, noticing that they had already dressed his wounds and placed him on a stretcher. The EMT smiled and nodded,

“That’s fine, sir. Let’s get you down there first and they will follow.” 

The back of the ambulance felt cold, but Kurt felt safer there than he had in the last few hours. He sat on the bench while the EMT continued cleaning some of his cuts. Within moments of him entering the vehicle, the other two EMTs approached with the stretcher that carried Blaine. 

As it was locked in place right next to Kurt, he was thankful that he was close enough to take his boyfriend’s hand. He did this without hesitation, being careful not to disturb his taped fingers or the I.V. mechanism inserted there. Blaine’s shirt had been completely cut away and gauze had been securely placed over the two gunshot wounds and the burn. The syringe was taped in place while several circular monitors were attached to his torso. Kurt glanced at the metal machine on the other side of the bed, noting the zigzag line across the screen. This zigzag line gave Kurt comfort because it told him that Blaine’s heart was still beating. 

Once the doors were closed and the police officer pounded on the glass from outside, the ambulance pulled away from the curb with the sirens wailing. The ride to the hospital was not long, or at least Kurt didn’t think so. They weren’t far from a nearby county facility, which he assumed was their destination. 

“It looks like I got the worst of the cuts dressed. We will check for internal injuries when we get to the hospital, okay?” the female paramedic beside him spoke clearly and patted Kurt gently on the back. “You’re going to be okay.” 

Kurt wanted to believe her. He knew she was just trying to be nice, but he was certain he wouldn’t be okay. Not after what he and Blaine had experienced. Never in his life had he been certain he was going to die. Never had he been so incredibly scared for Blaine. It all wound itself up in a giant lead ball and sunk into the pit of his stomach. 

For a while the sirens had been the only noise heard inside the ambulance. Suddenly, that noise was interrupted by the frantic alarms of the machines surrounding the stretcher. The two paramedics around him began to frantically look at the monitors and check his pulse and breathing. The man placed his stethoscope on Blaine’s chest in several places and then turned to his colleague, shaking his head. Kurt panicked,

“What is happening to him?” his voice was firm, but not shouting. The paramedics did not answer. Kurt watched the female EMT remove the oxygen mask only to witness copious amounts of blood seeping out from the corners of Blaine’s mouth. 

“We’ve got hemoptysis (2). I need suction and we need to intubate.” 

The two paramedics worked at lightning speed. The man, with a long plastic tube attached to a hose, began to suction out the inside of Blaine’s mouth, removing any excess blood. Then, he reached into one of the drawers on his side of the ambulance and handed his colleague a metal instrument that looked like a smooth metal hook of some kind. With it, was a very long and wide plastic tube.

"WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING TO HIM?!" Kurt shouted. 

The female EMT at the head of the stretcher turned to him,

“If you want to say something to him, I suggest you do it now. We will be putting him under so we can intubate him,” she explained. Kurt was confused,

“Wait..what? What does that mean?” 

The male EMT spoke up,

“It means we are going to have to help him with his breathing. We want to give you a chance to say what you need to. There’s a chance he may not come out of this.” The honesty of his comments hit Kurt like a ton of bricks, but he knew it was important for him to hear it straight. 

Kurt leaned into the stretcher, his face hovering over Blaine’s,

“I know I said I wasn’t saying goodbye to you,” he tried to ignore the angry sound of the alarms screaming that their patient was dying, “but I want you to know that I love you more than anything. I would live this life again and again, and I would only do it with you.” Blaine looked back at him, his eyes showing that he got the message. Then, he started to fade. 

The tears came in droves, dripping from his eyes and staining his cheeks. Kurt sat back on the bench and watched as the metal probe was inserted in Blaine’s mouth. Shortly after, the EMT inserted the long tube and affixed a large ambu bag to the end. The male EMT began to squeeze it at regular intervals as the ambulance continued to race toward the hospital. 

The rest of the ride seemed to be paralyzed in time. Kurt thought that the horrific alarms would never stop. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at Blaine’s face, for now it was just unrecognizable and covered in medical equipment. As the EMT continued to squeeze the bag, the alarm on the machine died down, displaying a more normal rhythm. Kurt was eternally grateful. 

The ambulance came to a halt outside the emergency room of NYC Presbyterian. The back doors flew open to reveal two emergency doctors in surgical gowns. Carefully they pulled the stretcher from the ambulance, making sure not to jostle the patient. Kurt could hear the paramedics giving off the needed information to the doctors as they followed the stretcher out. 

The EMT next to him helped him climb out and began to lead him to the doors of the hospital. Kurt just watched as the stretcher was rushed through the doors. The image of Blaine began to disappear as doctors surrounded the stretcher, ready to assist him. For that he was thankful. 

“Let’s get you checked out, okay?” The paramedic held his arm gently as they entered the doors. She brought him around the corner to the left where Kurt saw several bays of hospital beds and medical equipment ready for patients. Only a handful were occupied at the moment. One of the emergency bays, about one hundred feet straight ahead, held Blaine, where doctors transferred him quickly from the stretcher to the bed and began shouting orders at each other.

Kurt tried to watch as much as he could. He knew in the pit of his stomach that this may be the last time he saw his lover alive. The fact that he had almost stopped breathing and coughed up blood told him that Blaine was in much worse shape than he initially thought. 

“Sir, let’s get you all set over here.” a voice came to his ear, but it sounded far away. It was laced in an eerie echo. When a hand lightly touched his shoulder, he turned to his left and was faced with one of the emergency doctors, looking at him with a concerned expression. Her mouth was moving, but he heard no words. As he saw two more doctors rush over to him from his peripheral vision, he was lost to darkness.


	9. Love is a Battlefield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt learns the extent of Blaine's injuries. He also receives two important visitors as he waits to finally be reunited with his soulmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as graphic on the violence end this time. There is a lot of medical jargon, though. LOTS OF EMOTIONAL FEELS, FOLKS!! I put this one together rather quickly, so I hope there aren't too many typos/errors. 
> 
> Two new original characters appear in this chapter. They will play a very integral part in the story from now on. My hope is that everyone likes them! Soon the horrible gang members that did this to our boys will find out that the people they think to be "inferior" will be stronger and smarter than they ever thought possible.
> 
> UPDATE: I changed Sibaja-Mora and Freeman's jobs from detective to FBI agents. It made way more sense to me as I was writing. Let me know if I missed changing any "detective" to "agent." Thanks!

It was morning. At least, that’s what Kurt could tell as his awareness returned. Instead of blackness in all corners of his vision, he could now pick up a hint of light. His senses came back to him slowly. The first thing he noticed, other than the light behind his eyelids was the plethora of sounds. There was a collection of muffled voices engaged in conversation. Amidst the chatter, he could hear a soft beeping somewhere near him. 

The softness of bed sheets covered his body up to his chest. He could feel the warmth of the bed under his legs and back as he took in a relaxing breath. What was that? It felt like there were straws in his nose. That was weird. As soon as he noticed it, he lost interest. His body was in a euphoric haze. That was until the images of the last few hours came flooding back to his memory. Knives, fists punching, feet kicking...blood. 

His eyes flew open and he immediately took in the scene of the hospital room before him. The beeping increased its speed as his breathing came in quick, panicked gasps. Where the hell was he? What was going on? 

“Kurt! Kurt, calm down, son. It’s okay.” He felt a gentle hand on his left arm and turned his gaze in that direction. The familiar image of the NYADA cap and t-shirt suddenly made him feel much calmer. With his hand on his chest, he focused on his breathing until it slowed to a normal pace. When he didn’t feel his heart pounding against his hand, he leaned back against the pillows.

“Dad,” his father was only inches away, his face riddled with worry. Kurt could tell from the redness of his eyes that he had been crying. Trembling fingers graced his father’s cheek and Kurt confirmed that he was real. Instantly, he had his father in a tight embrace, pushing past the dull aches in his ribs. Burt Hummel hugged his child close to his body, wanting to protect him from any more harm. Burying his face in the crook of his son’s neck, he wept,

“I was so damn scared, Kurt. When I heard the doctor’s voice on the other end of the phone, I thought the worst had happened. I thought, 'No, please, no.' First Finn and now you? This couldn’t be happening.”

Kurt turned his head to the right and kissed his father on the side of the head. They broke from the hug and Kurt eased back against the pillows, still holding onto his father’s hand. 

“I’m here, dad. I’m alive, and I’m okay.” 

Burt shook his head and wiped the tears from his face,

“Well, you don’t look okay. You’re all beat up and covered in bandages.” He pointed to the medical apparel gracing Kurt’s body. Kurt took a moment to examine himself. His chest was covered in several adhesive bandages which hid the cuts in his skin. An I.V. was inserted in his right hand and held in place with white medical tape. His eyes followed the tube from his hand to the clear plastic bag hanging at the side of his bed. That's when he noticed the strange sensation in his nose again. He brought his hand to his face and felt the nasal cannula on his cheeks and behind his ears. When his fingers started to grab at it and pull it off, Burt reached out to stop him,

“No, Kurt. It’s there to help you relax.” 

Kurt shook his head,

“I don’t need it.” he ripped it from his face and tossed it in his lap. He saw his father’s shoulders slump in frustration,

“Nevermind, I was wrong. You are just fine because you’re still a stubborn little shit.”

They sat in silence for a moment, staring at each other. Kurt feigned offense and then, after his jaw jokingly dropped, he and his father shared a laugh. It was short lived, however, as Kurt wrapped his arms around his torso and winced. He held his hand toward his dad, preventing him from trying to fix it.

“What time is it, anyway?” Kurt inquired. A quick glance at his watch and Burt responded,

“About 8 A.M. You’ve been out for more than twelve hours, son. That was a record that I didn’t think even you could beat.” Kurt returned the sarcasm by childishly sticking out his tongue. 

The door to the room opened and a doctor entered in his pristine white coat. He carried a large tan envelope in his hand. A woman walked in behind him in a fancy business suit. The doctor walked up to the bed and held his hand out for Kurt,

“Good morning, Kurt. I’m Dr. Nyugen and I will be taking care of you while you’re here. This,” he motioned toward the woman who also approached the bed and shook Kurt’s hand, “this is Mrs. Hansen. She is one of our administrators.” 

She held a clipboard in her hand and smiled at him, her eyes beaming happily from behind her thick framed glasses. Dr. Nyugen turned to Burt and introduced himself, followed by Mrs. Hansen. He pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat down, adjusting his coat as he did so. Kurt had only just met this man, but he immediately trusted him. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because his voice was so soothing. He looked like any other doctor he had ever met, but there was something about his demeanor that calmed him. 

“How are you feeling this morning, Kurt?” Dr. Nyugen looked at Kurt with his dark brown eyes. There was no judgement in them, only understanding. Kurt shrugged,

“Physically, I guess I’m alright.”

The doctor stood, took the nasal tube off of Kurt’s lap and hung it on the hook next to the bed. He sat back down and nodded,

“How is your pain on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being none, 10 being the worst you’ve ever felt?” 

“Maybe a 6?” Kurt was unsure how to answer that. Physically, the pain was manageable. Mentally, he felt like he might die. 

“How is your head? Do you feel dizzy at all?” Kurt shook his head. Dr. Nyugen leaned in closer to the bed and removed a pen light from the pocket of his lab coat. He motioned for Kurt to look him in the eyes as he quickly flashed it in front of each of his pupils. When he looked satisfied with what he saw, he returned it to his pocket. “Your pupils are reacting well, so that’s a good sign.”

“What were his injuries, doctor?” Burt asked from the other side of the bed. The doctor was happy to explain as he faced Kurt,

“Well, the majority of the injuries were superficial cuts to your skin. Then, there’s the pretty nasty burn on your chest. That one was a third degree burn, so we will make sure to keep changing the dressing and applying antibiotics. Lastly, you had a mild concussion. Do you remember fainting?”

Kurt searched his brain for the memory and was unsuccessful. He shrugged,

“No. I just remember only caring about Blaine. Can you tell me how he is?” 

“Well, to conclude with your condition, I wanted to tell you that we are just going to keep you here one more day for observation to make sure there isn’t anything we may have missed. Otherwise, you should make a full recovery. Just keep us updated on your pain so we can help you feel more comfortable, okay?” When Kurt nodded in response, the doctor turned toward the woman. 

Mrs. Hansen stepped forward with her clipboard. She looked at the doctor who indicated she should continue. 

“Kurt, is this your name on this form?” she held out the clipboard so Kurt could see it. In the middle of all the complicated formatting were two lines. One had Kurt’s signature and the other contained Blaine’s. He paused for a moment because he didn’t remember signing anything official with Blaine present. However, there was his name written out exactly as he would have. He made sure to hide his confusion to not bring further attention to the matter. When he nodded, Mrs. Hansen continued, “So do you agree to make medical decisions for Mr. Blaine Anderson as his medical proxy?” 

His heart jumped into his throat. What? When was he made Blaine’s medical proxy? He never agreed to or signed any forms. He was certain Blaine must have forged the entire thing. He made eye contact with Mrs. Hansen and nodded confidently. 

“Is there something wrong? Do you need me to make a decision right now?” 

“We may have to remove his spleen and we need you to authorize it, if you feel comfortable.” 

Kurt looked unsure of what she said,

“And if I don’t feel comfortable?” he inquired. 

“We would have to wait for his family to arrive to authorize it. We contacted them and they are not able to get in until tomorrow.” 

It made sense, but he also knew that Blaine wasn’t as close to his family as Kurt was to his. It wasn’t that they didn’t love him. They just didn’t always understand him and also lived in their own little worlds. Between Cooper, Pam and himself, he knew he was the best to do the job. He knew Blaine more than anyone else. Without hesitation, he held his hand out,

“Where’s the form you need signed? I trust you guys and I authorize you to do anything you think needs to be done to save his life.”

The clipboard was set in his hand and he promptly signed it and handed it back to Mrs. Hansen. She nodded and took it back from him, a look of satisfaction on her face.

“Thank you, Kurt. I will go inform the surgeons so they can begin the procedure. They have him all prepped and just needed the okay to start. Take it easy and I will talk to you again later.” Mrs. Hansen disappeared out the door.

Kurt turned to Dr. Nyugen with desperate, pleading eyes. He shifted in his chair and his mouth curled up into an awkward smile,

“You want to know how Blaine is doing?” 

Kurt nodded. The doctor stood from his chair and walked to the other side of the room where an x-ray light hung on the wall. From the envelope, he produced three different x-rays and clipped them to the machine. When he flipped the switch, Kurt and his father were faced with images of someone’s rib cage, pelvis and hand. Dr. Nyugen clasped his hands together, resembling someone about to give a moving lecture. He pointed to the first x-ray,

“So, this is an image of Blaine’s thoracic region, and that’s just the region of your rib cage and all the organs protected by them. If you look here,” he pointed to the right hand side of the image, near the bottom of the rib cage. Kurt could see a large white smudge there, “this is near the 7th and 8th ribs. The bullet entered right between these two ribs and caused a fracture to both of them. That’s not what I’m really concerned about. What concerns me is this,” his finger made circular motions around the white smudge, “this is a collection of fluid around his lung.”

Kurt interrupted him, “Is that why he was coughing up blood?” he asked. The doctor nodded,

“It certainly is. It looks like some bullet fragments lodged in his lung, which caused the pneumothorax, which is a collapsed lung. So, to treat that, we have inserted a chest tube to drain the excess fluid in order for his lung to have time to heal. We also have him on a ventilator because, unfortunately, the pneumothorax has caused his oxygen levels to drop to the low 80s. We need it at least in the high 90s. Our hope is that the ventilator will help raise those levels and allow his lung time to heal.”

“How long will he be on the ventilator?” Burt asked. 

“Well, we will check his oxygen levels regularly. The machine will tell us how he is doing because it monitors his oxygen levels and alerts us accordingly. If we notice that he is needing less help, we can take him off. A pneumothorax usually heals in a couple weeks, but he doesn't necessarily need assistance for the whole time. My hope is to get him off by the middle of next week. We are hoping to take the chest tube out in the next day or so.”

Kurt rubbed his arms and looked down at his lap. He took a deep breath and looked back up at the doctor, indicating that he could continue. 

“What else?” he asked. 

Dr. Nyugen moved to the next part of the x-ray, near the lung,

“Tucked between his lung and his stomach here is his spleen. Now, the bullet did a lot more damage to this organ and tore it to shreds. So, the best option is to remove it. I know that sounds scary, but you can live without your spleen.”

The doctor turned to his patient and his visitor, taking their silence as a signal to move to the next x-ray. This one showed Blaine’s abdomen and pelvis. The doctor pointed to an area close to the spine,

“Now, this bullet was a through and through. This just means that the bullet penetrated his body and exited his back. In this area, his bowel was perforated and we had to repair it. So far, we are hopeful and feel that the repair was done effectively. The only thing I am worried about is the possibility of sepsis. Since the contents of his bowel have spilled into his bloodstream, he is at risk for a serious blood infection. As of now, he has a low grade fever, so we will watch it closely. When he’s off the ventilator, he’ll have to be on a liquid diet while it heals.” 

Burt turned to his son and took his hand. They both squeezed tightly and looked at each other, giving one another courage to continue listening. 

“Now, if you see here, the bullet exited very near his spine…”

Kurt gasped, covering his mouth with dread,

“Oh my God, please don’t tell me…” he didn’t finish before the doctor stopped him,

“Don’t worry, Kurt, it did not do any spinal cord damage,” he heard Kurt give a sigh of relief, “but, he may experience some weakness in his legs from the swelling. He will definitely need some PT to bring his strength back.” 

Finally, Dr. Nyugen moved to the last x-ray of Blaine’s hand. Kurt didn’t really need to know what the x-ray said and he waved his hands in front of him, signaling the doctor to stop,

“I know what happened to his fingers. Those bastards broke them because I didn’t do what they said,” his voice broke as tears welled in his eyes. The doctor turned off the x-ray light and approached the bed shaking his head,

“Kurt, nothing that happened to Blaine is your fault. It was the action of several sick people and you should not feel responsible for this.” 

He and Burt watched the young man as he took his time collecting himself. The doctor helped guide him through some breathing exercises and helped Kurt to feel somewhat normal again. He rubbed his arms again, in an attempt to soothe himself. He looked the doctor dead in the eyes,

“What do you think, Dr. Nyugen? Please be honest with me about this. Do you think Blaine will recover?” 

The doctor looked at the floor and folded his hands. 

“I am going to be completely honest with you and say I can’t guarantee anything,” Kurt’s body slouched, showing defeat, but the doctor continued, “however, because he is young, in excellent physical shape and has no underlying conditions, I am very optimistic. I’m not going to lie, his injuries are serious and he is still in critical condition. But, with time, I can see him coming out of this fully recovered. That is my honest opinion.” 

Those were the words Kurt needed to hear. For once in several hours, he felt he could smile. He understood completely that the doctor couldn’t guarantee the worst wouldn't occur and cause Blaine to go in the opposite direction. But hearing those words brought him the hope that he was waiting for. There was one more matter on his mind,

“I’m also worried about another thing. Blaine is a performer. It is his life and he's really good at it. What are the chances that he could go back to that like nothing happened? I would just hate to see him lose that. It would kill him.” 

Dr. Nyugen’s eyes reflected understanding and empathy. He nodded,

“I understand your concern. Like I said, since he is in good shape, if his recovery and PT goes well, he could go right back to performing like he was never injured. However, there is always the chance that his lung doesn’t heal and he will rely on oxygen for the rest of his life. I think we should wait and see how the lung healing goes. Then I can give you a more definite answer.” 

The amount of information going into Kurt’s mind was overwhelming. Just contemplating the last several hours was already exhausting. Now he had to mentally sift through yet another laundry list of mental burdens. A single tear fell from one of his eyes and demonstrated for the doctor that Kurt was trying his hardest to hold it together, but slowly failing. Thankfully, he took that subtlety that his patient needed time alone and stood from his chair. The walk into the room seemed urgent and hopeful. Kurt couldn’t help but notice that the change in Dr. Nyugen’s step was now somewhat defeated and somber. 

Before he walked out, he stood by the door, holding it open with one hand and turned back to his patient. 

“I will come inform you when Blaine is out of surgery. I will check in on him from time to time and let you know if anything happens. For now, just try to take it easy. You have been through a lot. I recognize that look of selfless courage in your eyes, Kurt. I know you are trying to keep it together for your dad and your fiance. But don’t feel like you can’t take care of yourself right now, okay?” 

When he received recognition from Kurt, he disappeared into the hallway. Kurt stared at the same spot on the sheets for what seemed like hours. Even after seeing his father take his hand from his peripheral vision, he did not move. Everything that had just been explained to him was being placed in his mental filing cabinet. A filing cabinet that held what he considered useful information, but something he just couldn’t deal with right now.

He and Burt could hear a somewhat forceful conversation occurring outside the door. Since the voices were so near his room, he assumed it had to do with him. Shortly after the conversation started, the door opened and Dr. Nyugen appeared again, looking displeased. 

“Kurt, there are two FBI agents here who would like to talk to you. Do you feel comfortable doing that right now, or would you rather wait?” 

Without moving his gaze from the spot on the sheets, Kurt indicated his agreement with a slight nod. The tapping of heels on the floor signaled that he had to mentally prepare for another taxing conversation. Shifting his eyes from the bed to the floor showed him two pairs of fancy high heeled shoes. 

“Mr. Hummel?”

Honestly, Kurt was surprised at what he saw. When he lifted his gaze to meet the two agents, his biases formulated assumptions that they would be men. But when he was looking into the eyes of two women, standing authoritative and confident by the side of his bed, he couldn't help but smile inwardly. He made a mental note to check his personal biases. 

“I am Agent Sibaja-Mora,” the woman on the right, in her long black pea coat and tailored grey pants stepped forward and extended her hand. Kurt obliged by returning the gesture firmly, even though he was utterly exhausted. Her long, wavy black hair framed her face and draped neatly over each of her shoulders. Long eyelashes adorned a pair of stunning brown eyes that looked back at him with sympathy and determination. She motioned to her right and introduced her partner who stepped forward,

“I am Agent Freeman. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hummel,” her hazel eyes were a light contrast to her stunning dark skin. The carefully fitted navy business suit hugged her athletic frame as she stepped forward and also shook Kurt’s hand firmly. From her, he got more support than sympathy. Something about the way she held his hand and stared into his eyes told him that she and her partner would do anything to bring him justice. 

“We don’t want to bother you, Mr. Hummel. We can’t even begin to understand what you have experienced and we want to give you time to rest,” Agent Sibaja-Mora explained. Agent Freeman continued,

“We understand that you were attacked by the Neo-Nazi gang that we have been tracking, so we will have officers waiting outside yours and Mr. Anderson’s room until you are both discharged. Then, we ask that you come to the FBI office and have a conversation with us.”

They both saw Kurt’s expression fall in defeat. His body language spoke volumes of how much he wanted to just forget all of this. The agents looked at each other, silently contemplating how to continue. Agent Sibaja-Mora stepped forward and, gesturing toward the chair, sat down when Kurt nodded his approval. 

“I’m going to be straight with you, Mr. Hummel. I want these men behind bars. They deserve to be punished for what they have done to you and so many other victims. But my partner and I cannot do this without your help.”

Kurt just examined her face silently, trying to look for some kind of insincerity. His fatigue and frustration began to change is mood about these two. He wasn’t sure why, but her last statement made him feel like this was just another job to them. Perhaps they weren't there to bring him and Blaine justice. What would stop them from getting his, and possibly Blaine’s, statement and just disappearing without talking to them again? He had to stifle his paranoia for a moment in order to hear what they had to say. 

“Kurt, they want to help you,” the hopeful words of encouragement came from his father’s lips. Agent Freeman stepped forward, combing her fingers through her wavy, dark hair,

“I can tell that you don’t really trust us, and I don’t blame you. What do these two ladies care about me and my fiance? Believe me, Mr. Hummel, we do. Every couple that has been victimized by this gang has been killed. The fact that you and your fiance, and the last couple survived the attacks shows us that these men are getting either sloppy or desperate. We are on the verge of catching them.” 

Kurt shrugged, seeming apathetic, “Why? What makes you think that they won’t just disappear.” 

“Because they are arrogant and always have to have the last word. I won’t lie to you, Mr. Hummel. You and Mr. Anderson are not safe right now. The fact that you are alive means they will be coming back to finish the job. That is why we are assigning security to you two until we can get you to an undisclosed location. But with you and Mr. Anderson, we will finally put them away.”

“Basically, what my partner is politely trying to say is that these men fucked with the wrong people, if you’ll pardon my language.”

Kurt had a sudden urge of confidence with their remarks. He sat up a little straighter and rang his hands together with nervous energy. He looked at his father who just nodded as a source of encouragement. After a moment of contemplation, he made eye contact with each of the agents,

“Do you really think we can do this?”

Without missing a beat, both women said in unison, “Hell yes.” 

At that moment, Kurt didn’t need any more convincing. He folded his arms in front of him and responded, “Then consider me an ally.” 

The two women shook hands with Kurt once more and instructed him to spend the rest of the day relaxing. They promised to return the following afternoon to have a more detailed conversation with him about what had happened. As they turned to leave, Kurt couldn’t help but look at them differently. They came in strangers wanting to use him to do their job. They left as his trusted friends. 

Aside from the quiet beep of the heart monitor, Kurt sat in silence in his bed. The hours had crept by so painfully slowly without any word on Blaine that he felt ready to scream. Nurses had come in at half hour intervals to check his vitals, but otherwise, he and his father had enjoyed their privacy. When Kurt had asked one of the nurses if he could go take a walk, she hesitated. After reassurance from Burt, she relented and allowed him to accompany Kurt down the hallway. Kurt was surprised at how exhausted his body felt. A simple stroll to the end of the hall and back left him winded. Never had he felt so incredibly out of shape. 

“You’ve gone through trauma, Kurt. Give yourself a break,” his father never failed to be the voice of reason. 

Kurt insisted that Burt get up and stretch his legs. Thankfully his father had paid attention to his son’s social cues over the years and took this as a hint that he wanted to be alone. After excusing himself to go get some coffee, Kurt sat for several minutes staring at his phone screen, trying to build up courage. All of his McKinley friends were in the dark about what happened to him and Blaine. He needed to tell them, but he was scared that another dreaded panic attack would disable him. 

As his fingers navigated the collection of apps on his phone, he contemplated what his message would say to them. Once he pulled up the SMS app, he added Artie, Mercedes, and Rachel to the conversation. Sam would get his own personal one-on-one once he was finished. The clock read just past 4 P.M. so he hoped he was catching them at a good time. His thumbs moved quickly over the letters as he composed his message,

_ <<Guys, I have some bad news. Something happened.>> _

Thankfully, Artie responded within seconds.

_A: <<What’s up, Kurt?>> _

As Kurt tried to gather up the strength to tell them, he received responses from Mercedes and Rachel,

_R: <<Is everything alright?>> _

_M: <<What happened?>> _

The phone screen blurred as tears stung his eyes. The room seemed to be closing in on him as his hands began to shake. He had to respond. He couldn’t leave them hanging,

_ <<Blaine and I are in the hospital. It’s bad. I want to talk to you, but I want it to be a video call. Are you all available around noon tomorrow?>> _

The responses were as varied as their personalities,

_A: <<????? Yes, noon will work.>> _

_M: <<Me too.>> _

_R: <<Kurt, tell us what’s going on.>> _

Kurt knew that, of the three of them, Rachel would be the most defiant. He shook his head, as if Rachel were there speaking to him. His response was adamant,

_K: <<No, I’m not ready to talk about it right now, Rachel. Can you join us for the video call or not?>> _

He was certain she was scoffing at that remark in her usual way when someone offended her. The next few seconds felt like an agonizing hour. He was hoping that he hadn’t angered her out of talking. 

_R: <<I understand. I will be there. Talk to you tomorrow. Love you.>> _

_A: <<We love you, Kurt.>> _

_M: <<Yes, we love you very much, Kurt.>> _

Before he lost himself completely, he pulled up Sam’s phone number and pressed send. The phone rang on the other end...and rang...and rang. Kurt’s heart pounded in his chest and his palms began to sweat. Come on, Sam, pick up, dammit! A click from the other end made him sit up straighter in his seat,

“Kurt, what’s up, dude?” his voice was lively and enthusiastic as always.

Hearing his friend’s voice made Kurt stop in his tracks. He wasn’t ready and he sat there in silence, trying to articulate the words. Sam must have been worried because he started to question the awkward nothingness from the other end,

“Kurt? Kurt, are you alright?” 

“Sam, I...I have some bad news.” Well, that was a stupid way to start, Kurt. He could hear the panic in Sam’s voice,

“Okay...um..what kind of bad news?”

“Blaine and I...something happened to us. I’m calling you from the hospital. I can’t really get into detail right now, but the short story is that someone came to our place and attacked us.” He took the silence from the other end as a sign that his friend was attempting to comprehend what he had just heard. “Sam, talk to me.” 

“Who the hell did this to you? I’m going to kill their asses. I’m getting my ticket changed and coming back tonight.”

Kurt interrupted him, “No, don’t do that! Just come tomorrow like you were planning. My dad will meet you at the airport and take you to his hotel room.”

“Why can’t I just go to the apartment?” 

Kurt rolled his eyes and almost dropped the phone in frustration,

“Sam, someone attacked us in our apartment. It’s a crime scene, you can’t stay there.” 

“Okay, okay, calm down, Kurt. Take a deep breath.” 

Taking his friend’s advice, Kurt pulled his phone from his ear. As he squeezed it with exasperation, he breathed in deeply a few times and then placed the phone back against his cheek. 

“I’m sorry, Sam, I didn’t mean to yell at you. Just go about your day as you had originally planned. Make sure to text me your flight info so I can let my dad know,” he paused and looked out the window, searching for some hope in the sunlight that was fading into dusk, “I am looking forward to seeing you, Sam. I mean it.” 

“I love you, Kurt. You and Blaine. You know that, right?”

Kurt had to bite his tongue to stifle his tears. Even though the emotion was bubbling over, he was so grateful to hear those words. The last several hours had been so saturated with violence and hate, that Sam’s words served as a sign of better things to come. He wished he could jump through the phone and throw his arms around Sam,

“I love you too. See you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. Take it easy.” 

A quiet click on the other end terminated the conversation. Kurt leaned back against the pillows and lost himself in a fit of sorrow. Burt entered the room within minutes of the call ending, saw his son in distress and rushed to the side of the bed. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t pass judgement. He just held his son tightly in his arms and did his best to comfort him. 

********

Three hours passed. No one had come to talk to him about Blaine and his mind was beginning to create horrific scenarios. The pain of waiting was worse than the pain he felt as he paced back and forth in his room. The doctors had since removed his I.V. and the monitors as he had shown good improvement throughout the day. He now walked free of tethers, but not free of anxiety.

As the hour ticked past 7 P.M., he realized he had gone longer without seeing his betrothed than ever before. The ticking of the clock in his room acted as a bully to his emotions. Burt watched his agonizing display of anguish and felt powerless to help. Trying to talk him down had proved unsuccessful, so he just sat and waited with him. 

The knocking at the door almost sent Kurt out of his skin. His eyes darted around to the door as Dr. Nyugen entered. Kurt approached him and placed his hands on the man’s shoulders in a pleading gesture. It took the doctor by surprise, but he listened patiently as Kurt started talking a mile a minute,

“Please tell me he is alive. Please tell me nothing bad happened.” 

Dr. Nyugen placed a reassuring hand on top of Kurt’s,

“I would have come to talk to you if that were the case. He is in the ICU right now and he is stable. It took a bit longer to get him into surgery than we liked. The OR was occupied by another emergency, so we had to push his operation back.”

“Can I see him?”

The doctor removed Kurt’s hands from his shoulders and, moving his hands in an undulating motion, tried to help him gain his composure,

“You can’t do anything until you calm down. So, take a deep breath first.”

Kurt was beginning to get angry. He wanted to see Blaine and he wanted to see him now. However, he could tell that Dr. Nyugen was not backing down. When a stubborn and silent protest didn’t work, he decided it was best to just give in. He closed his eyes in a meditative action. To his chagrin, it actually helped. The doctor gestured to the hallway,

“What about my dad. Can he come too?”

The doctor looked at Burt regrettably,

“Unfortunately no. Since it is the ICU we can only allow immediate family or medical proxies.”

“It’s okay, Kurt. Go ahead. Go see your soulmate.” Burt spoke from the chair. The two of them had a nonverbal conversation. Kurt sent him messages of gratitude for his understanding. Burt watched him disappear into the hallway as a single tear fell from his eye. 

“Now, Kurt, I have to warn you. Blaine will not look the way you are accustomed to seeing him. He is going to be hooked up to a lot of machines. Just try to remember that the wires and tubes are there to help him.”

Kurt barely listened to Dr. Nyugen. All he cared about was taking his loved one in his arms and never letting go. Even though he was adamant to see him, he knew he had to mentally prepare himself. When the two men stopped outside the door of Blaine’s room, Kurt paused and stared at the floor. He felt the doctor’s hand on his shoulder,

“You go in when you are ready, okay? I will give you two some privacy.”

The last image Kurt had of his loving Blaine brought him pain and anguish. He had been suffering and covered in blood. He closed his eyes and imagined his boyfriend as he had seen him the day before. His honey-colored eyes were bright and shining. His face beamed happily and was free from bruises and cuts. The memory made him escape from his current situation for just a moment before he slowly turned the doorknob and stepped inside. 

Similar to his own room, the silence was filled with the faint beeping of the monitors. When he closed the door, he stayed there and just listened. He wasn’t quite ready to look yet. As he strained his ears, he noticed other noises. Accompanying the beeping was a very faint hissing sound of air being exchanged. The only other sounds came in the form of ringing phones and quiet conversation out in the hall. 

Kurt raised his gaze to the figure in the bed and felt like me might faint. The words of the doctor reverberated in his mind as he cursed himself for not taking the man seriously. Blaine certainly did not look like himself. His small form was covered in so much medical equipment that he almost appeared robotic. What little skin was showing contained cuts and bruises. The only solace Kurt could take from the scene before him was that it was all there to help him recover.

He approached the bed and looked down at Blaine’s face. While the swelling was down, his eye was still very black and blue. Sadly, the beautiful hazel irises were hidden and would remain that way for some time. The hissing sound came from the ventilator beside the bed. A large tube protruded from his mouth, held in place with some kind of blue mechanism over his lips. Kurt gently combed his fingers through Blaine’s messy curls and immediately felt all of the hurt, anxiety and tension disappear. Even though he was in a terrible state, Kurt was still able to glean a feeling of happiness and safety from his boyfriend’s touch. 

As he pulled up the chair next to Blaine’s bed, he continued to survey the man’s condition. On the other side of the bed, sticking out from his lover’s left side was a large plastic tube. Dr. Nyugen’s explanation of fluid drainage replayed in his mind. He hoped it was doing it’s job. Blaine had not been dressed in a hospital gown. Kurt could see that the surgeries, even though their purpose was to aid him, had taken their toll on Blaine’s body. Several gauze patches covered his chest and abdomen indicating that the operations were very invasive. 

Kurt looked down and Blaine’s hand laying limply against the sheets. He worked his fingers under it, being careful not to jostle the complicated I.V. apparatus taped on his forearm. When he brought it to his face, and drew in a deep breath of Blaine’s scent, it caused a tingling sensation of relief to fill his body. For a moment, he pretended they were back in bed at the Bushwick apartment. Anything to escape from the hell that was their current reality was a relief. 

Amidst the symphony of medical equipment, Kurt could feel his eyelids becoming heavy. It made no sense. Other than the short walk, he had spent the entire day taking it easy and sitting in bed. He could only surmise that the sudden fatigue was a realization of the emotional stress and the toll it had taken on him. The sheets looked inviting, as did the fact that he was now with his soulmate with no one interrupting him. Kurt moved the chair closer to the bed and leaned over, placing his face against the mattress. One more quick check of Blaine’s condition confirmed that he was still alive. And this allowed Kurt to fall into a deep sleep, now comforted by the fact that he was with the love of his life.


	10. Story of My Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt has a heartfelt conversation with Blaine's family. Sam arrives and is a powerful source of strength and comfort for Kurt.

Much to Kurt’s chagrin, a nurse woke him up around 2 A.M. from a deep sleep at the side of Blaine’s bed. After several minutes of negotiation, she was able to convince him to go back to his room to get some sleep. It was only under the condition that he could stay with him for the rest of the following day. Sleep came to him inconsistently throughout the night and often consisted of him sitting up suddenly, drenched in sweat. Thankfully, the hospital had agreed to let his dad stay with him, and he had proven an infallible source of comfort. 

Now Kurt found himself standing at the desk of Mrs. Hansen, signing his discharge papers. Fortunately, Dr. Nyugen had checked all of his vitals and done a quick neurological test. This consisted mostly of a few memory and dexterity exercises to assure his mental faculties were intact. When he was satisfied with what he saw, he allowed Kurt the right to stay with Blaine as long as he needed, especially given the fact that he may be targeted by his abusers. 

A quick glance at the clock told Kurt that he had been sitting in his chair, holding his betrothed’s hand for four hours now. This time, he sat near the window with a clear view of the chest tube. Not surprisingly, very little had changed with regard to Blaine’s condition. Other than being able to see him better with the sunlight coming through the windows, Kurt noticed no difference in his appearance either. All of the monitors and tubes were still in the same place. Although it was all very scary, he took this as a blessing. At least he had not gotten worse over night. 

In the silence of the room, he heard a voice from the door. It was very soft and comforting,

“Kurt?” his eyes flew open as he looked at the new visitor. He breathed a sigh of relief as he was met with the sight of Blaine’s mother, Pam, standing in the doorway. She held her arms open and pulled him in closely once he approached her. They squeezed each other's bodies tightly, their human contact being a source of comfort in this frightening time. Kurt looked up and saw Blaine’s brother, Cooper, enter immediately behind her. The last time he laid eyes on this man, he was visiting Blaine in Lima. His face exuded feelings of confidence and joy at that time. It was a stark contrast to the feelings he was conveying now. 

Pam stroked Kurt’s cheek lovingly as tears fell from her eyes,

“I’m so glad he has you, Kurt. I know he wouldn’t still be with us if you hadn’t been with him.”

“You don’t know that for sure, Mrs. Anderson,”

“Pam,” she interrupted, “You can call me Pam, honey. I have always considered you like a son. ” 

Kurt was confused by that comment. He said nothing as she approached the bed. Laying a gentle hand on her son’s brow, she frowned slightly, “He feels very warm. The doctor told us he had a fever.” After a moment of taking in the image of her youngest in the bed, she disappeared into the attached bathroom. With the sounds of her rummaging through drawers in the background, Kurt turned to Cooper who had not moved from the door. He stood frozen and staring at his baby brother. 

Kurt was scared to touch him. Would it break him out of his trance or scare him? The sound of Pam’s hurried footsteps from the bathroom brought Kurt’s attention away from Cooper. She held a rag in her hand and approached the bed again. Gently, and carefully, she began to wipe the sweat from Blaine’s face. It was a loving gesture and it was endearing to witness. Kurt turned back to Cooper who was now on the verge of sobbing. When he tried to touch his arm, all he got in response was a hand held in his face to stop him. While it was a bit jarring to his emotions, he could understand that Cooper was not ready for human contact and he backed away. 

“I was hoping to be there for my little brother. I wanted to be his hero and to tell him he could be anything he wanted.” Cooper’s voice was breaking. Kurt just listened. “I can’t stand seeing him like this. I feel like I failed him.” 

Kurt shook his head and, contradicting any requests that Cooper gave him to stay away, he wrapped his arms around Blaine’s brother.

“Blaine doesn’t think that. I know that for certain. You came as soon as you heard he was in trouble. That’s heroic as far as I am concerned.” 

When he broke from the embrace, Cooper just stared back, appearing defeated. Kurt knew there was nothing else he could say to convince him otherwise. He just had to give him time to convince himself. 

Pulling up another chair at the foot of the bed, Kurt fell into it awkwardly and folded his legs into the seat. He hugged himself and rubbed his arms as if trying to avoid any more emotional bombardment by making himself as small as possible. He sat there and watched. He watched Blaine’s chest go up and down in the mechanical rhythm of his breathing. He watched his mother continue to lovingly remove the sweat from his face. He watched his brother approach the bed in small increments, stopping each time to lean against the wall. This dance continued for close to an hour. Finally, Kurt had worked up enough courage to break the silence with an uncomfortable question,

“Pam, may I ask where Mr. Anderson is?”

At first, she didn’t respond. Hiding behind the chore of caring for her child was her shield against the disquieting inquiry. A heavy sigh and a shake of her head signaled her readiness to answer,

“He’s no longer in the picture. He walked out with his lovely mistress months ago. It was about the time Blaine left for New York.” 

A conversation from several months back came rushing back to Kurt’s memory. He recalled Blaine being very distant, almost robotic, as he told Kurt to love his family as much as he could. “You only get one. Love them while you can,” he had said. He had never received any kind of explanation for the randomness of that statement, but now he understood why. Kurt could only look away with a deep frown,

“I’m sorry, Pam,” he turned to Cooper, “I’m sorry.” 

Kurt had another question on his mind that he knew would be difficult to hear. He desperately wanted to clear a nagging thought in his mind, but he was also aware of the heightened emotional stress in the room. After a moment’s contemplation, he figured it was no worse than seeing Blaine in his current condition,

“Pam, why did you say you consider me like a son?” She turned to face him, her eyes appearing perplexed. “I mean, I don’t want to sound ungrateful, because that is not the case. It’s just that we rarely spent time together. I didn’t think I was really that nice to you during our McKinley days. What makes me deserve such a title?” 

Blaine’s mother draped the wet rag over the handrail of the bed. Kurt could tell she was either stalling with her answer, or trying to formulate the best response. She began to caress Blaine’s splinted hand in her fingers and she let out a heavy sigh,

“I know I am not the best mom. I know I was rarely there for much of his high school accolades,” she paused and drew strength from holding her son close, “You can thank his father for that. He never understood him and never tried. I wanted to do good by him, but I also didn’t want to anger his father. He had a mighty temper and never really accepted Blaine for his homosexuality. I loved him from afar, but I have been lying to myself. I kept telling myself that this was me giving him space to be himself. But, I missed so much of him,” she gently laid her son’s hand down on the bed, walked up beside Kurt’s chair and crouched down on her haunches, “And that’s why I am glad he has you. He talked about you all the time during his McKinley days. I guess you took my place and loved him the way I should have.”

He could feel her hand lovingly stroking the side of his face and he tried his hardest to stifle his tears. It was useless. How could he hold it in after hearing something so incredibly profound? His mouth turned down in a frown and his head hurt from the pressure of holding it all in. Suddenly, he just burst into a sob and fell into Pam’s arms like she was his own mother. She held him back, like he was her own. 

“I’m so sorry, guys. This is my fault. Blaine is hurt because of me. He protected me from these assholes who hurt us,” he spoke in sorrowful bursts but took solace in the softness of Pam’s touch, “One of them was going to shoot us, and he pushed me out of the way. Before I knew what happened, he was already shot. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”

Shortly after the flood of emotion, he felt a docile hand on his back,

“Neither of us are surprised that Blaine did what he did, Kurt. I’m glad he did.”

When he leaned back in the chair, trying to regain his composure, he wiped away his tears.

“Do you know what happened? Did anyone tell you the whole story?”

Pam and Cooper shook their heads,

“No, but please, Kurt, don’t start reliving it now. We will hear what happened when you and Blaine are ready to talk about it.”

“She’s right, Kurt,” Cooper spoke, “We know someone hurt you both, but the details will come in time. All that matters is that you both get better.” 

All three of them sat together in a communal embrace, letting the sadness, anger and worry escape in the form of tears. Kurt didn’t want to let go. He had experienced so much pain and hate in the last couple of days. He was afraid letting go of this would bring it flooding back. 

The door opened and they all broke from the hug to greet whoever had entered. Three nurses began to walk toward the bed. One of them pushed a cart of medical supplies and stopped just before they got to the foot of the bed. Kurt, Pam and Cooper looked confused,

“Can we help you?” Cooper asked. 

“We need to do an examination and change his dressings. It’s pretty involved and we need as much space as we can get. I’m going to have to ask you all to step outside for about an hour. We will let you know when we are finished.”

They realized that, because of the nurse’s tone, there was no use in arguing. Kurt stood from the chair and excused himself shortly after giving Cooper his cell number so they could stay in contact. He exited the room and, wiping away the last of his tears, he headed toward the hospital lobby. Burt was soon to arrive with Sam in tow. 

********

When he had passed by the two policemen keeping watch outside Blaine’s room, one of them started to follow him. Kurt turned around and insisted that he was just going to the restroom. The police officer took that as an acceptable answer and let Kurt go. He snuck away as quickly as he could, hoping to avoid detection. 

As Kurt headed for the exit, his phone beeped from his pocket. He read the incoming message from his dad,

_ <<We are about a block away from the hospital. Be there soon.>> _

Kurt waited outside the front entrance, taking in the sounds and smells of the city. He was happy to have a change of scenery. Everything about that ICU room was bringing him close to insanity. Seeing a little girl skipping by happily while holding her father’s hand was the stark contrast he needed. His eyes followed her as she continued down the block. When she reached the corner, his eyes focused on something else. He looked up to see the two men he was waiting for walking briskly toward him. 

Sam was a few paces ahead of Burt and, once he saw Kurt leaning against the outside wall of the hospital, he broke into a run. Kurt tried to hold it together and he bit his tongue. He welcomed Sam into his arms, and could feel the strength of his embrace as he was enveloped by him. 

“Oh my God, Kurt. Your dad told me what happened. I’m so glad you are okay.” They both closed their eyes tightly, trying to make the world around them disappear for a moment. 

“Thank you for coming, Sam. I actually was hoping you could both join me in the park just across the street.”

“Of course. What’s going on?” Sam inquired.

“I have a video call with our McKinley friends in about ten minutes. They don’t know what happened yet, and I wanted you all to be there.” 

Sam pulled away from Kurt and nodded. He looked across the street and, amidst a collection of trees, he saw an unoccupied bench. Pointing to it, he turned back to Kurt,

“Let’s go sit there.”

The three men waited for the gap in traffic and then made their way to the empty bench. Kurt could tell that Sam was eager to hear more about what transpired two days before, but he was being polite and letting Kurt do it as he wished. When the three of them took a seat on the bench, Kurt pulled out his phone and checked the time. He had only a few minutes until it was time to call. He knew that the agents would probably be upset with him for walking out without his security detail, but he didn't care. The three of them were in a public place with several witnesses. Those Nazi bastards were bold, but they weren’t idiots. 

They sat in silence, watching the world continue around them. Kurt was glad his friend was there, but he was so filled with anxiety that he couldn’t bring himself to strike up a normal conversation. Sam could sense it. He wrapped his arm around Kurt’s shoulders, but said nothing. Kurt was thankful for the gesture, and the contact. Being in his friend’s and his father’s presence was a window to what was once normal. 

“Here goes nothing,” he opened up the FaceTime app and added Artie, Rachel and Mercedes to the call. After pressing send, he swallowed the enormous lump in his throat and felt it go down painfully. His friends picked up within seconds. Seeing all of their faces allowed him to release some of the tension in his shoulders. Sam could feel it. 

“Hey, Kurt. It’s good to see you, buddy.” Artie’s comforting voice was eagerly welcomed. He couldn’t tell where they all were, but he didn’t care. He didn’t anticipate this call going for very long, especially since he assumed he would be a puddle of emotion in no time flat. 

“Hey, I’m here and so is Santana. She’s listening. Kurt, what happened to your face? Where did you get the shiner?” Mercedes inquired. Rachel had said nothing and Kurt could only assume Mercedes had asked what she was thinking. 

“Guys, I have some bad news for you.” When no one spoke, he took it as a signal to continue, “Artie, I am sure you are familiar with the current events of the Bushwick neighborhood, but I just want to get everyone caught up. There has been a string of hate crimes in the area, mostly targeted at LGBTQI individuals…”

Kurt watched as their faces indicated a sense of contemplation, as if to be taking in the new information carefully. Rachel’s eyebrow rose,

“Who was committing these hate crimes? Were they just random and coincidental, or..”

“No. Unfortunately there is a group of Neo-Nazis in the area. And, well, Blaine and I crossed paths with them.” 

There was a collective gasp. Mercedes covered her mouth in shock. Rachel’s jaw nearly hit the floor as she shook her head in denial. Artie’s eyes just widened in bewilderment. Burt and Sam remained vigilant, acting as a source of support for Kurt. 

“Is Blaine alright?” Artie was the first one to ask. That’s when Kurt could feel the new bout of tears stinging his eyes. His heart rate increased as it pounded in his temples. After shaking his head, he explained further,

“No. He was shot,” he could have sworn that Rachel was about to drop her phone but he continued, “and right now he is in the ICU. But the good news is the doctors are optimistic. The fact that he made it through the night is a good sign.” 

Kurt turned to Sam whose eyes were glistening with tears. Even though he was beginning to break down for fear that his best friend was close to death, he remained steadfast. He had to be there for Kurt. 

“He’s hooked up to so many machines right now, guys. He barely looks like himself. I...I don’t know what to do guys I…” 

“It’s okay, Kurt. Blaine is strong and we all know it. Just give him time and he will come out of it.” Artie tried to reassure him. “I want to come visit him as soon as I can.”

Kurt shook his head,

“Thank you, Artie, but he can’t have visitors until he is out of the ICU. He’s in a medically induced coma right now so he doesn’t fight the ventilator, so you wouldn't get much out of it anyway. I will keep you all updated on his condition. Just make sure you keep checking your text messages.” 

“I will be back hopefully next week. I’ll definitely be there to see him.” Rachel commented, her voice breaking slightly. 

“We will be making a special trip to come see him, but not until he is back on his feet. Don’t get me wrong, Kurt, we love him, but we don’t want to overwhelm him with visitors.”

Kurt was hesitant with her comment,

“You mean IF he gets back on his feet.” His hopeful demeanor from just seconds before was now falling into a pit of sorrow. Sam pulled him closer to his body as Mercedes spoke,

“WHEN he gets on his feet, Kurt. We all know that he will. I want to hear you say it.”

Through the smudge of his tears, he looked at each of his friends. He realized in that moment how much they all truly cared about each other and it hit him not with a sense of sorrow, but of hope. The tears burning his eyes were now tears of gratefulness rather than anguish. Trying to hold it together, he just nodded in response as Sam squeezed his shoulders again. He felt Burt take his free hand as a gesture of support. 

“He is going to make it,” when he saw Mercedes smile and nod at him, he knew she was happy to see he finally agreed. Suddenly, her smile turned to a frustrated frown,

“Dammit, I am so sorry, Kurt, but my agent is calling me away. Thank you for letting us know about Blaine. He is going to survive, okay?”

“I know. I will keep you updated. Love you.”

“Love you.” her screen went black as only two faces remained. 

“Blaine loves you, Kurt. I hope you know that.” Rachel said. She and Artie waited patiently until they saw Kurt show that he agreed. All he really could do was move his head in a minute way. The emotion was starting to drain him of his energy. 

“I know. And I love him more than anything. I wish he could hear me talk to him right now.”

“He can, Kurt,” his father spoke from beside him as he looked at him, “Just because he is drugged, doesn’t mean he can’t hear you. I could hear you when I had my heart attack. Just remember that." 

“Just let us know when Blaine is feeling a bit stronger and he’s ready to have visitors. I’m going to come race him down the hall in my chair,” Artie joked, getting a chuckle out of Kurt, “There’s the smile we all needed to see.” 

“Just hang in there Kurt. Everything will be okay.” Rachel’s words of encouragement were more helpful than she could ever know. He placed his fingers to his lips and blew them both a kiss. 

“Thank you, guys. I will talk to you soon.” 

They repeated the gesture and said their goodbyes. When his screen went blank, he let his phone fall into his lap as he leaned forward against his legs. Sam didn’t falter in his grip around his friend’s shoulders, and followed him into the uncomfortable position. His father leaned in and pulled all three of them into a protective embrace. Sam and Burt held it together as they allowed Kurt to sob uncontrollably in their arms. Kurt was becoming frustrated with himself. Only a short conversation with his McKinley friends caused him to crumble. If he wanted to be there for Blaine, he had to get his shit together. 

Sam knelt in front of him, taking his face in his hands. 

“I am so scared I am going to lose him, guys. I can’t even fathom how much that would destroy me…” he continued to sob. Sam's brow was knitted in disagreement,

“You’re NOT going to lose him. You said it yourself. The fact that he survived the night is a good sign. Blaine is telling us that he is not going anywhere.”

Kurt felt his father rubbing circles soothingly on his back,

“You just have to be patient, Kurt. Not just with the healing process, but with yourself. This isn’t going to get better overnight, but it IS going to get better.”

The more Sam and Burt talked to him, the more he was able to collect his thoughts. They were right. Blaine was the strongest person he knew. He looked up to him in his McKinley days. Blaine was so confident and sure of himself that Kurt strove to be like him. Why would that have suddenly changed? Blaine had not changed. Kurt knew that he could depend on his soulmate to come out of this alive. 

“I am going to be there for both of you. I will be here at the hospital every day for you. And you can bet your ass that I will help him with his PT, and be there to hug him when he has his panic attacks. You’re not in this alone, Kurt. You have me, you have your dad and you have our McKinley friends. We will help you through this, okay?” 

The tender moment was interrupted by a text notification from Kurt’s phone. He glanced at it quickly to see that Cooper was trying to get a hold of him. He read the text aloud to Sam and his father,

_ <<There are two agents here. They want to talk to you.>> _

When he closed his phone down, Sam lifted Kurt’s chin to look him in the eye,

“Do you want me to be there with you?”

Kurt did not hesitate. He nodded in agreement and stood from the bench. Burt told them that he was going to sit outside for a while and get some fresh air. He wanted to give Kurt a chance to do something on his own and not feel like he was hovering. 

Sam wrapped his arm around Kurt’s waist and, giving his friend the look of confidence that he needed, they both headed into the hospital. Kurt was glad he had Sam. The agents would surely want to talk to him about what happened. He wasn’t sure how much this conversation was going to break him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kind words, everyone! I have one more shorter chapter after this and then the next will be LONG. The updates will not be daily for awhile. Sorry, but I just wanted to let you know! I have the rest of the story outlined. I just have to put it together. I will try to get things up as soon as I can, but school is starting and, as a teacher, I have to be available for classroom/lesson prep. I hope you understand. 
> 
> Thank you! 
> 
> TRIVIA (more me being curious): Anyone notice the theme of the chapter titles?


	11. Blackbird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt and Blaine's family have a lengthy conversation with Agents Freeman and Sibaja-Mora. They reveal a plan to hopefully apprehend these monsters. Unfortunately this means Kurt has to relive the horror of the night before. 
> 
> Warnings;  
> -Anxiety attacks  
> -Reliving abuse  
> -Recounting of graphic violence
> 
> Language notes:  
> 1\. Der Kaiser = The Emperor

There was something very impersonal and cold about the conference room. Kurt was not sure if it was the fact that horrible things were often discussed here, or he was just letting his nervousness cloud his judgement. There wasn’t anything particularly homey about Blaine’s hospital room either. Other than the birth of a child, hospitals often did not produce happy memories. He surmised that it was just sterile objectivity and then realized he was over-analyzing the banal. The truth was his mind knew what the discussion would entail and he was going into defense mode. He was going to have to relive the horror of the night before. It made him want to vomit, but he remembered the promise he had made to the agents. Offering his help would be the best way for him to live up to what he had said in movements class so many days before. This would be his chance to show them he wasn’t going down quietly. 

In the center of the room was a long conference table, big enough to seat twelve. Kurt sat at one end of the table and folded his legs up into the seat awkwardly. To his left sat Sam, ready to be a source of reassurance. His father had remained out in the park and decided to call his step-mother to keep her updated. Much to his chagrin, the agents insisted that he have a police officer there to protect him. He didn’t understand why, but decided it was best not to argue. To Kurt’s right sat Cooper, still as a statue and staring at a single spot on the table. Kurt was sure this was the worst his mind had to endure. Blaine was an image of youth and vitality and to see him so debilitated was a reminder to him that no one was invincible. He held Pam’s hand. She sat leaned against the back of the chair, sure that she would end up there anyway. In her right hand, she held her handkerchief, ready to soak up the tears that were sure to come. 

At the opposite end of the room, a large screen was mounted to the wall. Agents Sibaja-Mora and Freeman stood there, ready to share what they had researched. As the screen remained black, Freeman turned to each of them separately as she explained,

“I don’t want to sound condescending, but I also understand that you have been through unspeakable trauma,” she started by looking directly at Kurt, “Many people in your position think they are ready to see the faces of their attackers, but are surprised to find they aren’t. If you feel like you can’t keep going, let me know and we will stop. The last thing Sibaja-Mora or I want is to cause you more emotional pain.” She met eyes with the rest of the family and added, “The same goes for you all. We know you may not have directly experienced the pain, but seeing the faces of these people may bring up some emotions you may not have thought you had.” 

“We also want you to know that we are very grateful for your willingness to help us, Kurt. We both admire your courage. But, keep in mind, if you see our presentation and decide that it is too much for you, please don’t feel obligated to go through with it.” 

They waited patiently as Kurt processed their words. He continued to look into his lap as he rubbed his hands together nervously. Sam placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but Kurt did not acknowledge him. He just nodded slightly,

“I’m ready. Let’s get on with it, please.” his voice was flat, indicating his emotional and physical fatigue. 

Freeman looked at Sibaja-Mora and nodded, indicating that she could begin. In her right hand, she held a small remote. When she pressed the large round button in the center of it, the screen came to life and displayed the faces of the four criminals who had nearly killed Kurt and Blaine. Kurt thought he was ready. When his eyes looked up at the screen he pulled in air through gritted teeth and shut his eyes tightly. Cooper’s hand balled into a tight fist until his knuckles turned white. Sam appeared ready to jump out of his seat and punch the screen. The agents noticed immediately and turned the screen off,

“I think we might want to wait.” Freeman said. Sam slammed his hand on the table, making the other three jump. Kurt looked at him like he had lost his mind,

“No! We have come this far, please don’t stop. Don’t make his family relive this again later. Just get it over with,” he demanded, his voice breaking. This time, Kurt acted as the source of comfort and squeezed the hand Sam had placed on his shoulder. When they met eyes, Kurt’s facial expression turned from shocked to a supportive smile. He turned to the agents and nodded.

Once again the screen displayed the faces of the demented murderers. Sibaja-Mora advanced through three different slides, each showing the men in slightly different visages. Their hairstyle and wardrobe changed in subtle, but noticeable ways. Each image of the men was taken in a slightly different setting. They could all tell by the backgrounds that they had visited more than one part of the country. 

“You are looking at four men that the FBI has been tracking for more than two years. They have a pretty nasty history and connection to Nazi sympathizers. Each of their grandfathers either worked closely with or supported the Nazi party. This,” the screen changed to the passport image of captain of the gang, “is Elias Weber. His grandfather was a very well known Nazi SS Guard, straight out of Auschwitz. During the height of the Nazi occupation, he had even earned the nickname ‘Der Kaiser.’(1). Hitler even awarded him the SS Long Service Award for his dedication to the Reich.” The images now changed to that of a tall, stiff and authoritative man in a well pressed uniform. He stood before a mass grave, his face looking eerily satisfied. Kurt shivered, but continued to watch as the image changed to a different be-speckled man. “Weber’s father was raised to support the Nazi party and even started his own group of supporters. This was years after the war was over, mind you.”

Sibaja-Mora continued to the next slide, showing crime scene photos,

“Weber thought he would keep up the Nazi mission and that’s when, in the mid 1990s, the bodies of several Jewish families turned up all over Berlin. As soon as he was implicated and his name was flagged all over Interpol, he packed up his family and headed to South America. Elias was only a boy at the time.” Kurt watched with a deadpan face. None of this history lesson was interesting to him. All it seemed to do was glorify them by giving them unneeded attention. He decided to be polite and continued listening. This time the image showed another crime scene, except Weber himself was lying dead in the middle of the mayhem. Freeman explained the image,

“Then, about ten years later, his father was gunned down in a standoff with Argentine police. His family had to flee, and quickly. Fortunately for Elias, his father taught him well in the art of espionage. He slipped through Interpol’s fingers and basically vanished. His mother was apprehended, but she remains in a European prison and is pretty tight-lipped.”

“Then, Elias turned up in southern California about five years later, near or around 2010. Except, this time, he had help. That is when he met and befriended fellow Nazi sympathizer,” that was when the screen changed to the passport photo of his lieutenant, “Peter Abel. Similar background, except we’re talking mindless loyalty. He was Elias’s right hand man.We only have sporadic reports of their sightings throughout San Diego. This was around July of 2011. By September of 2011, they had found their two recruits, Christan Hall and Benjamin Schneider.” 

Two more mugshots appeared on the screen. Kurt took one look at those dead, emotionless eyes and could feel the bile coming up to the back of his throat. He turned his attention to Blaine’s family and Sam. They remained still, their expressions devoid of feeling, as they continued to stare at the men who nearly killed him and Blaine. Agents Sibaja-Mora and Freeman could see that the images were beginning to bring up sour emotions, so they turned off the screen and took a seat at the end of the table. Sibaja-Mora continued,

“Once their gang was assembled, they averaged about five to six months in each area. Each time they seemed to be targeting minorities. In San Diego, it was Hispanics and their families. They left a calling card in the form of the words ‘die Stärke’ spray painted on the Hispanic-owned homes and businesses. That’s when it got a little personal for me. Then, they just seemed to disappear for a month or two. We thought we had eyes all over the country, but they always eluded detection.”

This comment seemed to get under Cooper's skin. He looked at the two women with judging eyes. Kurt could understand his frustration that these men hadn’t been caught sooner, but he had to understand that it was not the fault of these two agents. Pam seemed to detect the tension in her son’s body. She turned back to face him and, placing a gentle hand on his thigh, was successful in helping him settle down. 

“The gang was busy for the next year or so. Next, they stopped in Austin, Texas and targeted black Americans. Several couples were found murdered in their homes. After about six months of a killing spree, they moved on to the Chicago area where they seemed to be going after Jewish individuals. And now, almost two years since they started, they are in the NYC area with a taste for the LGBTQI community. With each city, they got smarter, and more methodical. With each city, they became better at sneaking away.”

This is when Sam interrupted. His voice was laced with annoyance,

“Why the hell didn’t you get them all in San Diego?” 

To the surprise of Kurt and Blaine’s family, neither of the agents was offended or surprised by his question. They both nodded, their faces not showing disdain or shock, but understanding. Freeman folded her arms in front of her,

“You are right, Mr. Evans. You all have every right to be angry with the Bureau for not apprehending these men. Believe me, when it got to Texas, and they targeted black Americans, that’s when I got involved. It got personal for me that time. And this is why we need your help. These men expect the FBI to come after them. They won’t expect you,” she pointed at Kurt who made no movement. His face appeared exhausted and broken. While hearing the history of those murderers was bad enough, he knew the tough conversation was yet to come. As if reading his mind, Sibaja-Mora met eyes with him. Her face conveyed messages of encouragement and sympathy,

“Kurt, we would like to hear your account of what happened. Anything you can remember will be helpful. The more details we can get from you, the better. Then, we can put your account on file and it will be even more evidence against them.”

Freeman agreed with her partner and added,

“Also, the details of your account can help us figure out if there are any inconsistencies in their habits.”

“What would that indicate?” Cooper asked. 

“That they are getting sloppy, or desperate. When this happens, they don’t watch their backs and we can strike.” Both agents had an air of determination about them. While Kurt did not feel comfortable talking about this, he really did want to help them bring these men to justice. 

The room fell silent as all eyes were suddenly on Kurt. He felt more uncomfortable at that moment, with everyone staring at him, than he had while he looked at the horrific images. He could feel his heart begin to beat faster as a thin layer of sweat formed on the palms of his hands. His temples began to pulse and he could sense his blood pressure increasing. Sam moved his chair closer to him and started rubbing comforting circles on his back,

“Take your time, Kurt. We’re all here for you. None of us are judging you.” 

He met eyes with Sam, looking for answers. Sam could tell he was pleading, but responded with a look of encouragement. He had to get this off of his chest. For all he knew, it could be more cathartic than he expected. 

“Elias first appeared at the Spotlight Diner about three weeks ago,” Kurt looked across the table and saw Agent Freeman beginning to write down the details of his story while Sibaja-Mora folded her hands in front of her and listened intently. “He was very charming, I have to admit. We hit it off right away. Then he started coming more frequently. He was so nice, I just...I can’t believe I…” his frustration came out in the tone of his voice. Sibaja-Mora held her hand out in front of her, gesturing to Kurt to calm down,

“Kurt, these people are professionals. They are master manipulators. Do not feel like befriending him is your fault. He did this to all of his victims in order to…”

“...gain their trust.” Kurt finished her sentence. She nodded, as if to reassure him that he was right and there was nothing to be ashamed of. Her silence and replacement of her hands in front of her indicated to Kurt that he should continue. “Peter appeared at Mosh Pit and befriended Blaine in a very similar way. I actually met him there when I was hanging out one night. He was great at appealing to Blaine’s interests.”

Cooper and Pam were now leaning forward on the table, listening very closely to Kurt’s words. The mention of their brother and son was of great interest. They wanted to hear something about Blaine before he was injured. It was a taste of normalcy that they both needed. 

“How did they introduce themselves to you, Kurt?” Freeman asked.

“With the names you presented,” he indicated to the screen and the presentation they had just finished. Sibaja-Mora closed her eyes and nodded,

“What? What does that mean?” Sam sounded nervous now. 

“This is a good sign. It tells us that they are either running out of allies willing to cover their tracks, or about to take it all the way to the end. Every other crime, they used a variation of their names as an alias. The fact that they gave you their birth names tells us that they meant to kill both of you. The fact that they didn’t means they will try to return to finish the job. This means we have a better chance of catching them.”

Sam looked flabbergasted. His jaw nearly hit the floor,

“Except the fact that it puts Kurt and Blaine in more danger.”

“And you have every right to be upset by this. However, this is why we have increased our security presence in the area and at the places where you are all staying.” she pointed to Cooper and Pam who appeared perplexed. 

“Why us?” Cooper asked.

“I would rather be safe than sorry, Mr. Anderson. Kurt, please continue.” Freeman said, indicating that she did not want any more interruptions. “Take us to the day they decided to hurt you.”

Kurt took a deep, cleansing breath. He was determined to finish his recount of the event and decided to keep going this time, without pausing. The likelihood of that, though, was slim.

“Well, as I said, they had gained our trust. We encountered the other two throughout the two weeks and they just spat nasty words at us. Peter actually came to our rescue on both accounts. Great way to win our trust. However, neither of us knew that the men were connected because they were never seen together.”

“So, we invited Elias to our house for dinner yesterday. I was finishing a class up at NYADA and, on my way home, I stopped at Garrett's because he had texted me and wanted to chat. As we talked, he started giving me details of his attack that led me to conclude that we had just invited the Nazi to dinner. I got home as fast as I could and, just as I approached the front door, I got a text from Blaine. Elias had arrived early and he discovered he was die Stärke.” The tears were burning his eyes at this point. The images before him were blurred by the collection of liquid against his corneas. His voice began to quiver as he continued, “Elias’s friends were there to greet me. When I got into the apartment, they forced me and Blaine to sit and listen to their personal history. They kept telling us how we were weak and we were tainting their ‘Aryan race’ or something. They told us we had to be cleansed of our ‘sins,’ it was disgusting.”

Cooper reached his hand over from the corner of the table and took Kurt’s. He too had tears in his eyes as he listened to the details of the night of terror. Kurt appreciated the gesture of sympathy and squeezed his hand in return, 

“This is going to be hard for you two to hear, guys.” They nodded to indicate their understanding. “They made Blaine get on the ground and then they made me tie him up. After that was done, they tied me up too and then taped our mouths shut. Before I knew it, I was on my bed being straddled by this monster, Elias. He started cutting me…” he had to pause to catch his breath and regain his composure, “...and then he just kept hitting me all over. I could feel his knuckles digging into my flesh. Everything started spinning and all I can remember hearing was Blaine screaming for me from across the room.”

“After Elias was done cutting me, they dragged me over to Blaine and I laid there forever. They asked me if I was ready to be cleansed and I just told him to screw off. Then…” he began to sob as he looked at Cooper and Pam with immense guilt on his face, “...they broke Blaine’s fingers because I said no. It was my fault. Before I could help him all four of them just decided to start beating the living shit out of us. By the time they stopped and ripped the tape off our mouths, we were coughing up blood.” 

“That’s when Elias started strangling Blaine. I shouted at him to stop. I shouted until I barely had a voice and when he stopped he just decided to start kicking him again. He just wouldn’t stop and it was all my fault. All because I said no.”

Cooper just shook his head, trying to convince Kurt that everything was okay and it was not his fault. While he appreciated the sentiment, it would take him a while to be convinced.

“Blaine spoke up then. He told them that they were cowards and that the reason they haven’t been able to convert anyone was because they failed. Love would always win. I just piped up by agreeing with him. They didn’t like that at all. Peter started warming up the brand,” Kurt pulled his shirt down to reveal the angry burn on his chest. All three of his friends gasped in horror. He recounted the final part of his experience, “They held both of us down and branded us with a hot metal rod. It was so excruciating. Then we saw the police lights flashing outside. Elias started panicking and he spat out orders in German. The men untied us and ran. Elias stayed behind. Blaine and I held each other for dear life. Then, suddenly, I felt Blaine push me. That’s when I heard two loud pops right before I hit the floor. I held myself tight and I could hear Elias approaching me from behind. Before he could do anything I emptied a can of MACE into his eyes. He ran away and I found Blaine a few feet away. Elias had shot him twice. He...he...protected me. He..took the bullets for me…”

Cooper didn’t hesitate. He got up from his chair, walked over to Kurt and held him tightly in his arms. In mere seconds, Kurt could feel two more bodies joining the embrace. They held each other with an air of understanding and deep compassion. Kurt could feel their unspoken love pouring into him as he sobbed into Cooper’s shoulder, feeling slightly guilty for getting saliva and mucus all over his leather jacket. Cooper made no movement, and only wanted to show Kurt that he was glad he shared his story. And Kurt knew, without his saying so, that Cooper felt no anger towards him for what happened. 

The two agents waited patiently as Freeman continued to write the details of Kurt’s account on her notepad. Sibaja-Mora looked on and felt a sense of pride. Not for herself, but for Kurt. She regarded him with the utmost respect and admiration. Not only had he and Blaine survived at the hand of four of the most evil criminals she had ever pursued, but he came out ready to assist her with a level of courage that she could only aspire to. 

The group of friends broke from their loving embrace. Sam continued to stroke Kurt’s back, hoping that it was still bringing him comfort. SIbaja-Mora leaned forward, bringing her gaze down to meet Kurt’s until he obliged,

“Kurt, you are the bravest person I have ever met. I know that it was extremely difficult to tell us that, but I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. You are helping us more than you realize.”

“I want to catch them now. Let’s get the hell out of here and catch them.”

Both agents gestured for him to slow down,

“It’s not that simple, Kurt. We have to take it one step at a time. Not only do we not want them to attack you again, but we don’t want to scare them off,” Freeman explained.

“We also want to get you and your friends set up in secure lodgings. We recently did it for Garrett for his safety, and we need to make sure that these men don’t get to you either. This includes Kurt, Mr. Hummel, Mr. Evans, Mr. Anderson and Mrs. Anderson. The FBI has worked alongside local hotels to put you all up in safe accommodations, somewhat like witness protection,” Sibaja-Mora elaborated on one part of the plan as Freeman stood and walked to the door. When she opened it and gestured to someone in the hall, Kurt and his friends were faced with five strangers who entered the room and stood before them, saying nothing. 

All four of them sat in stunned silence as they stared in amazement at what their eyes were witnessing. The five strangers could have been their doppelgangers. Each of them was dressed in a similar wardrobe to the person they resembled. Also, their hair and makeup had been done to make them look as much like Kurt and his friends as possible. Even their mannerisms appeared to mimic those of the people they impersonated. The agents took their stunned silence as a sign to continue,

“These are your decoys. They will go to your current accommodations, have their makeup and wardrobe changed and then, when we bring each of you there, we will have you collect your things and sneak you out an undisclosed exit to an unmarked car. From then on, any time ‘you’ exit, it will be one of these people. We will be able to set you up at your new accommodations provided by the Bureau once we do the switch. Then our decoy agents will continue to live out your current habits. Hopefully this will convince our Nazi pricks that nothing has changed.”

Cooper was the first to speak up,

“Why do we need decoys? Is there something you aren’t telling us?

The agents looked at each other. They appeared to have a silent conversation with each other and soon, Sibaja-Mora took out the remote once more. When the screen came to life, revealing the mugshots of the men, she immediately advanced to the next slide. Kurt, Sam, Cooper and Pam were faced with a grainy image from what appeared to be a dashboard. Pam squinted her eyes and then made a sudden realization as she spoke,

“Wait, that’s The Presidential. That’s our hotel,” she pointed to herself and Cooper. The agents nodded, and Sibaja-Mora pressed the button on her remote. They watched as the video came to life, showing pedestrians walking by the entrance to the hotel. 

“This is a stakeout car parked outside your current accommodations. It has been there since Mr. and Mrs. Anderson arrived,” Freeman nodded toward Cooper and Pam. They continued to look confused and Freeman lifted her eyebrow, “Just keep watching,” she added. 

Seconds later, they made a collective gasp as Elias appeared to stroll near the front door. He meandered for a minute or so before finding a comfortable spot against the wall. With his hands in his pockets, he leaned his shoulder against the cement support at the corner of The Presidential. Within moments, Cooper and Pam watched themselves leaving the hotel. They watched in horror as Elias followed them with his gaze. They got into their Uber and, as it pulled away from the curb, he continued to watch it while it disappeared down the street. Elias stood there for a moment, appeared to look around, and then joined the crowd of passers by as he disappeared from sight. 

The room was engulfed in a terrified silence. The agents looked at them, taking in their expressions of recognition. They seemed to be grasping the situation. 

“We also have video footage of Christian outside the Hilton about a block from this hospital,” Freeman looked directly at Sam who knew what she was alluding to. He could only cover his mouth in utter disbelief. Freeman was not finished as she added one more detail, “Finally, we have more footage of Peter strolling in front of your apartment several times, Kurt.” 

Kurt clenched his fists in his lap and shook his head in disgust. This had to stop, and it had to stop now. He didn’t want to wait. These men had to be apprehended. But, when he looked at the stunned faces of his friends, he realized he had to be patient not only for the sake of their safety, but that of his father as well. 

“We have to be strategic, folks,” Sibaja-Mora said, “we can’t just pounce without stalking first. We know that, because they are exhibiting this behavior, they are only getting braver. So, we will continue to have agents outside each of these hotels, and the apartment and we will strike when we think the time is right.”

Freeman nodded, “We can do this, folks. We will catch these guys. And this,” she pointed to the decoys, “is how we do it.”

As Kurt examined the five individuals made up to look like him and his friends, he had a sudden rush of hope. Could this really be happening? Were they actually zeroing in on these monsters? Would justice actually be served? He knew he had to be patient. He knew it, but he still hated it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience, everyone! The next chapter is going to take me awhile (it could be up to a week, just FYI) because it will be written to take place over the course of a week. Expect it to be LONG! Thank you for your kind words and loyalty! I hope I am still keeping it interesting enough!
> 
> UPDATE:  
> FRI 8/28/2020 - I am about a third of the way through chapter 12. Workshop week had me busy these last few days. Thanks for your patience! I want to make it good! Hoping to have it up sometime this weekend.


	12. I Have Nothing (If I Don't Have You)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place over the course of a week. Kurt has some important meetings with Agents Freeman and Sibaja-Mora. Blaine's condition improves and Kurt and his friends are there to support him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is everyone, as promised! This chapter is on the long side! Please forgive me! Thank you for your patience as I took the time to write it. There is a lot of medical jargon in this one, so just an FYI.  
> This one has a lot more heartfelt moments in it. Blaine may just wake up...*wink* Either way, expect a lot more positive things in this chapter. "Thursday" is from Blaine's perspective for the first time in many chapters. 
> 
> After this, there are only three more parts. I hope what you read here is enough to keep you invested. I am extremely grateful to those of you who have stuck with me.
> 
> UPDATE: Wow, I completely forgot to write down the name of Blaine's PT doctor before writing the second half of the chapter. I now have changed it to match the rest of the chapter. Some of you may have been wondering "Why did his name suddenly go from Flemming to Fisher?" Haha!

_Sunday:_

New York Presbyterian benefactors had made a good decision about five years ago. They realized that, according to hospital demographic information, more and more families had experienced extended stays due to more serious medical diagnoses. These deep-pocketed individuals, as well as the hospital board, determined that a hotel added to the south wing of the hospital could only benefit them fiscally. As soon as word got out to local lodging businesses, all hell broke loose and the owners of said properties came forward wanting to sue for breach of contract. A contract that never did or would exist. Within a few months, the hospital was able to welcome families into the beautifully constructed accommodations, at significantly modest rates. 

This worked in Kurt’s favor. The FBI was able to pull some strings and reserve enough rooms for him and his friends to remain safe as the die Stärke gang was being pursued. The FBI spared no expense, due to Kurt’s voluntary participation in apprehending some of the most wanted criminals. He and his father, Sam, Cooper and Pam all received lodgings fitting of foreign dignitaries. Each was larger than the Bushwick apartment and bolstered fancier amenities than Burt received as a Congressman. The hard part was gathering their things from their current hotels and moving them back to the hospital without detection. 

Thankfully, with the help of Agents Sibaja-Mora and Freeman, two separate cars took Sam and Blaine’s family to their hotels and escorted them to their rooms. As they were gathering all of their belongings, the decoys remained in the cars, ready to stand in for them at a moment’s notice. Burt, Sam, Cooper and Pam had all settled in and remained quietly in their new rooms while Kurt remained glued to Blaine’s side. He took the most convincing to return to the scene of the unspeakable horror. It was only when the nurses had to kick him out of the room to change his boyfriend’s bandages that he actually conceded. 

At the moment, Kurt felt like he was glued to the back seat. From the back of the unmarked sedan, he peered out the window and up at the sand colored brick. When the two of them had finally created a home out of this place, Kurt was certain that nothing could ever change his perspective of it. Sadly, the events that had transpired only days earlier, were about to change how he felt. 

“Don’t worry, Kurt.” his decoy, whose name he discovered was Jason, spoke from his left. When he turned to face him, the man slapped him on the shoulder, the way a coach would do to his quarterback. “We will get these guys and then you and Blaine can go back to normal.”

Kurt just looked at the floor sadly. He curled his lip up in a half-hearted obligatory smile. 

“I don’t know if we will ever be able to call this home again.” 

“So, find a different place where you can both start over.” he said, matter-of-factly. The comment brought Kurt pause. He had made so many great memories in this place, and he couldn't deny that. It gutted him to know that the idea of being within its walls made him sick to his stomach. But Jason had a point. There was nothing wrong with starting over somewhere else. 

“Ready, Kurt?” Freeman turned in her seat, peering back at him. He made the slightest of nods and the two front doors of the sedan opened. Sibaja-Mora pulled the radio from her belt and used it to signal the agents in the alley that they were entering,

“All clear?” 

“All clear, Sibaja-Mora. Go ahead.” 

She turned to Kurt in the back seat and noticed he hadn’t moved an inch since the car had stopped in front of the apartment. An abrupt tap on the window brought him out of his trance, almost violently. Even still, he didn’t open the door. The two agents exchanged glances, and Sibaja-Mora opened the door for him,

“You don’t have to do this, Kurt. We can get your things for you, if you prefer.” 

Those words were all he needed to hear as encouragement to get to his feet. After he stepped up to the curb and shut the sedan door behind him, he hugged himself in a defensive motion. Freeman walked ahead of him and Sibaja-Mora lagged behind, making sure to surround Kurt with some kind of defense, in case the gang members appeared. 

The smell was the same. The floor below his feet felt the same. The wood creaked the same way. Still, Kurt could feel a dark cloud following him from the entrance to the door of the apartment. Something was about to pounce on him, and he couldn’t shake the notion. Freeman slid the large gate to the right, revealing yellow crime scene tape creating an “x” in the doorway. She lifted it up to allow Kurt easy access. He moved slowly, crouching down and stepping over the threshold. His arms continued to hug his torso, as if to be a shield. 

Kurt stopped a few paces inside and stood just before the kitchen table. His eyes scanned the domicile for a moment. The kitchen, the coat hooks, the beds and privacy curtains all seemed in the right place. As his gaze fell upon the square shelves behind the couch, they followed them to the floor. There appeared two dark stains in the wood. Blaine’s blood had not yet been cleaned off of the floor. 

That’s when the cloud swallowed him. At first, a thin layer of sweat covered his forehead. Then he felt every muscle in his body tense as his heart raced. The room began to sway and he found it hard to take in breath. As his legs became weak, he could feel himself leaning to the left. Before he hit the ground, Freeman and Sibaja-Mora caught him.

“Whoa, whoa, easy there. Why don’t you have a seat?” Freeman pulled out a chair and the two agents eased him into the seat. Sibaja-Mora could tell that he was going pale. Any second he would pass out. She grabbed his shoulders and pulled them down,

“Put your head down in between your knees. It will stop you from fainting.” 

Kurt didn’t object and he quickly leaned forward, making sure his scalp was parallel to the floor. He noticed that the dark spots in his vision and the vertigo were beginning to subside. His breathing returned to a normal rhythm within a few minutes and he felt safe enough to sit up. 

“Listen, Kurt, you really don’t have to put yourself through this. I feel bad. I should have just come to get things for you instead of making you relive what happened here,” Freeman shook her head, showing disappointment in herself. Kurt looked into her eyes with determination and frowned,

“No. I had to face it some time. Just give me a moment while I gather a few things.”

The two agents watched him as he walked past the privacy curtain on the right and reached under the bed. From there, he produced a large, wheeled suitcase and set it on the mattress. In one quick move, he unzipped the top and flipped it open. The next few minutes consisted of him carefully selecting garments, folding them, and placing them in the bag. He disappeared into the bathroom and grabbed the necessary toiletries before returning to the bedroom and dropping them in the middle of the collection. There he stood for a moment, staring blankly at nothing in particular. The realization that he would not be staying here for a long time finally hit him. The images before him began to blur as tears welled up and fell from his eyes. His gaze drifted around the room that he had shared with his boyfriend for so many months. He looked at the nicely made bed where the two greeted the day in each other’s arms. Finally, he glanced at the bedside table in the corner of the room and paused. In a silver frame was an image that Rachel had taken of him and Blaine asleep on the couch. Blaine was nestled into Kurt’s arms comfortably and both of their cheeks pressed together affectionately. He couldn’t think of a time when they were happier than in that photo. 

With a quick shiver that brought him back to the present, he walked over to the small table, picked up the frame and admired it for a moment. When he realized that he had been keeping the agents waiting for longer than he had intended, he placed the frame on top of his clothes in the suitcase very gently. It was the most valuable thing he had in that bag. 

After swiftly zipping up the suitcase, Kurt grabbed the handle and turned toward the two agents who looked at him with condoling eyes. He sighed heavily and walked toward them,

“I think it is time to go.”

Both agents nodded and, as Sibaja-Mora exited, Kurt followed her out with Freeman close behind. He listened to the door slide shut and latch and never looked back. 

********

Being careful not to jostle the ventilator tube, Kurt leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his fiance’s forehead. He could feel the warmth of his skin and felt a pang of worry in his chest. The fever was still present. A very thin coat of sweat covered his brow as well. Kurt was becoming anxious about the tenacity of this high temperature. 

“The fever is stubborn, I know.” Pam spoke from the corner of the room, curled up in a chair with her high heeled shoes discarded on the floor. Her face appeared defeated and exhausted. Kurt stole one last look at his lover’s face, taking note that his eye was healing up well and the bruises were much less noticeable. He pulled up a chair next to Pam and curled his legs up under him in the seat after also discarding his shoes. He knew the two of them would be there for a while, so why be uncomfortable?

Pam reached over from her chair and took Kurt’s hand into her lap. He turned to face her and gave her a slight smile, returning the sentiment that he was fatigued. They interlaced fingers and Kurt knew from this tiny gesture where Blaine had inherited his enormous, loving heart. They exchanged no words, but Pam was able to tell Kurt that she loved and cared about him with a simple movement of her hand. 

In the quiet of the room, they heard the latch on the door engage as the door slowly opened. A nurse entered with a small cart containing gauze bandages and antiseptic. She acknowledged the two of them in the chairs with a friendly hello and went on with her work. Kurt watched her go to the sink and wash her hands thoroughly before putting on her medical gloves. First, she took a small cloth towel and gently wiped Blaine’s forehead and face of the residual sweat. It was evident that she wanted to be as docile as possible. Kurt was thankful for the care she took with her actions. 

Carefully, she lifted Blaine’s right arm first and began to pull the sheets down past his thighs, exposing his entire naked torso and waist. Several white bandages covered his abdomen and rib cage where the doctors had done the repairs from the gunshot damage. Kurt could see they had been soaked through and needed to be replaced. The nurse turned to Kurt and Pam,

“Would one of you like to assist me in changing his bandages? It will give you a chance to be close to him, if you wish.”

Pam and Kurt looked at each other, each of them too polite to ask to be the one to do it. Kurt smiled and squeezed her hand,

“You should do it. You said you wanted to feel closer to him. Here’s a great chance.” Her eyes expressed gratitude and she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek before standing from her chair. The rush of blood back to her legs made her walk awkwardly to the other side of the bed. The nurse instructed her to wash her hands thoroughly and then handed her a pair of her own medical gloves. 

The nurse was careful in her explanations and patient with Pam as they moved through the tasks slowly. As she removed the gauze, she gave Pam a small applicator of disinfectant to rub over the wounds before placing new bandages on them. When the gauze over the burn was removed, Pam had to pause and close her eyes before applying the antiseptic. She still couldn’t believe that the fragile form in the bed before her was her own son. What’s worse, she couldn’t believe that someone would do such horrible things to him. 

Kurt approached the foot of the bed and wound his fingers around the railing. As the women continued to work, he began to hum quietly. He hummed the tune of the song that made Blaine fall in love with him. He hummed for his lover. He hummed so that he would maybe feel a sense of normalcy amidst all this horror. He hummed to help his mother feel calmer in this awkward situation. 

The nurse smiled and met eyes with him,

“Blackbird?” she inquired. Kurt nodded and smiled back. 

As the women finished the last of the bandages, the nurse asked Pam to help her place a hospital gown on him. Even though neither Kurt nor Pam had been taken aback by the nudity, the nurse wanted to give Blaine a bit of privacy. She quickly unhooked the I.V. and oximeter on his right hand so that she and Pam could work his arms through the sleeves and then reattached them to avoid the angry beeps from the machines. Then the nurse asked Pam to gently hoist him up off the pillow so she could tuck the gown behind him. 

As she held her son in her arms, she nestled her face into his curls and breathed in his scent. It had been years since she had been able to hold him like a mother and she could feel the tears stinging her eyes. When the nurse finished placing the gown, Pam carefully laid her son back down against the bed, keeping one hand on his cheek. She combed her fingers through his hair with the other hand and was quieted by the stillness of his form. Even though she knew that he was in a medically induced coma, it was frightening to see the son that was so active in such a static position. She continued to comb his hair with her fingers, fearful that letting go would cause him to disappear. 

“Now, technically I am not supposed to tell you this, but Nyugen informed me that he was going to do an MRI tomorrow to check the injured areas. If the healing looks good, he hopes to take the chest tube out. He asked me to make a few adjustments to the pressure and O2 of the ventilator so we can see if he still needs support. I will be monitoring the numbers all night. If Dr. Nyugen really likes what he sees in Blaine’s readings, he may even get him off the ventilator,” when she saw both of their faces light up considerably, she signaled for them to take a pause, “Don’t get your hopes up too much. Coming off the ventilator isn’t for sure, but I thought you could both use a glimmer of hope.” 

“Why aren’t you supposed to tell us that?” Pam asked.

“Well, technically the doctor is supposed to inform you, not me. Please don’t say anything.” she winked at both of them, producing a slight chuckle. The nurse turned to the computer screen attached to the ventilator. After pressing a few buttons, the machine made a soft beeping noise, but otherwise nothing seemed to change. Kurt’s eyes followed the large blue tubes from the machine all the way to the one in Blaine’s mouth. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to need it. Thankfully Blaine was unaware and sleeping peacefully because of the anesthesia. 

“Don’t worry. We will act surprised,” Kurt winked back. 

“Thanks. I take my leave now. Remember, we are here to help, so if you need anything just ask.” She gave them a friendly smile and then exited the room, pushing the cart slowly in front of her. 

Kurt approached Pam from the left. Even though he hadn’t really spent much time with her in his McKinley days, he had grown much closer to her over the past couple of days. He knew that her love for Blaine was profound and unfailing. That was more than enough to earn his trust. He laid his head on her shoulder and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She returned the gesture and they interlaced fingers at her shoulder. 

“Where is Cooper?” 

“He went for a walk in the park across the street,” she giggled, “He was irritated that the cop had to go with him. It really did a number on his pride.” 

Kurt smirked, but it was unseen by her. He stroked her hand with his thumb lovingly and just stared longingly at his fiance. No words could describe how much he wanted to hold Blaine in his arms and feel him embracing him back. Something gave him the impression that Pam wanted the same. 

“I wish he could just sleep in peace. I know he’s out, but all the machines just look…” Kurt couldn’t think of the word.

“Scary?” Pam finished, “I know. That’s why Cooper had to leave. He just couldn't stand seeing his little brother like this. He is so very protective of Blaine, even though he has a weird way of showing it. He’s blaming himself for this.”

Kurt could understand the difficulty of seeing a loved one in Blaine’s position, but the self blaming made no sense. How could Cooper consider himself responsible for something he couldn't control? He lifted his head and looked at her,

“Why?”

Pam shrugged, “That’s what I said. He just feels an innate responsibility to always protect Blaine. I couldn’t convince him otherwise, and that’s when he left. Everyone deals with grief differently. I figured I just had to let him be.” 

He pulled her closer to him and hugged her like she was his own mother. He could tell that she appreciated the gesture not only in her facial expression but in the way she hugged him back. The sounds of the heart monitor and ventilator surrounded them, as if to remind them Blaine was not going to wake up anytime soon. After several minutes of standing in the same place, Kurt heard another sound join in the symphony. In his right ear, he listened to Pam’s sniffling and uneven breaths as she tried desperately to stifle her sobs. 

“Pam, he is going to be okay. I know it.” 

Pressing her eyelids together caused the tears to overflow and stream down her face. She took Blaine’s hand and brought it to her lips, using it as a way to hide her emotions. 

“I feel like such a terrible mother. Blaine is my son and I barely know him. Holding him just now made me feel like I had traveled back in time. It was like I was holding my baby Blaine in my arms again. And then I opened my eyes and all this horror came back to stab me in the gut.” 

Kurt took her hand and led her back to the chair in the corner of the room. She needed to stop looking at her son and obsessing over how she could help him. After getting her situated in the seat, Kurt knelt down in front of her and held her hands tightly. He needed to convince her that she was wrong and that Blaine loved her dearly. She was his mother, after all. Just because they spent a lot of time apart, did not mean he didn’t care for her. 

“Blaine loves you dearly. He told me a story recently about you that I thought was so sweet,” he sat in his chair, still holding her hands as her gaze following him curiously. “It was about the day after Sue Sylvester had embarrassed him in front of the whole Glee Club. He was hot under the collar and everything people said to him was blown out of proportion. I personally remember him either saying nothing, or blowing up at everyone.”

Pam sat quietly and listened. It soothed her to hear about Blaine’s past. It helped her escape from reality. Kurt continued, “He mentioned that he felt bad for yelling at you that morning as he left for school. It consumed every conversation that day. He was so ashamed of himself for hurting you. And then he said that he got home and there was a note from you on his bedside table saying how much you loved him and that you wished he would feel better. You know what?” He lifted her chin to look at him. She just blinked and stared back blankly, unsure of how to deal with all of this emotion. She shrugged,

“What?”

“He still has that note. He laminated it and he carries it in his wallet. And whenever he has a really big audition coming up, he rereads it and it boosts his confidence. He loves you and he values your relationship. Even if you don’t think he does.” 

Kurt watched her facial expression evolve over the next thirty seconds. It changed from numb and sorrowful to enlightened and grateful. Kurt felt a sense of triumph and he was glad he had shared that story with her. Her face turned back to the bed and she stood from her chair. Moving slowly and quietly, she approached the bedside and took Blaine’s face in her hands. The connection she thought she had lost with her son was always there. There was hope for their relationship. Now all Blaine had to do was wake up.

She leaned in close and placed a gentle kiss on her son’s forehead. 

“I love you, sweetheart.” 

She couldn’t see it, but Kurt had an enormous smile printed on his face. 

_Monday:_

The numbers meant absolutely nothing to Kurt or Blaine’s family, but Dr. Nyugen was staring at the ventilator screen purposefully and with great interest. His face didn’t show concern or satisfaction and it was beginning to make Kurt feel restless in his seat. Cooper was watching the man like a hawk. It was as if any wrong move from him would result in an intense, protective attack. Pam just waited patiently in her chair right next to Kurt. 

“What can you tell us, Dr. Nyugen?” Surprisingly, Cooper was the first to speak up. 

“Well, I am checking the pressure on the ventilator. What I'm looking for is a reading between five and ten. This would indicate that he could breathe without it. Right now he is hovering around eight and nine. This is much better than before, but I would still like to check a few things before making the decision to take him off. He needs to pass a spontaneous breathing trial before I can make my final decision. This basically means, if he can show good oxygen levels and ventilation at very low ventilator settings, meaning closer to four or five, we have the green light. ” 

He approached the bed and prepared his stethoscope. Kurt watched as he pulled the hospital gown off of Blaine’s shoulders and then placed the diaphragm against the left side of his chest. The rest of the room’s occupants made sure to keep quiet in order for him to get the best reading. After listening for a short time, he began to tap against Blaine’s ribs in different areas, producing a soft beat with each contact. Kurt had no idea what it was for, but he trusted it was for the best. The doctor performed the same test on the other side of Blaine’s chest and nodded. Next, he put his stethoscope back in its place around his neck and replaced the gown over Blaine’s shoulders. When he turned to the three individuals in the room, they gave him expressions of hope and curiosity. 

“His breath sounds are much better than when he arrived on Friday. This is good news. I will have to let the MRI tell me more. So, this would be a good time to get something to eat. The MRI could take a couple of hours.” 

With the assistance of an orderly and two nurses, the bed was unlocked from its position. Dr. Nyugen walked behind the head of the bed and began to help his three coworkers to push it toward the door. The orderly and one nurse guided the bed at the side handrails while the other nurse made sure to follow with the monitors. Kurt, Cooper and Pam watched as Blaine disappeared into the hallway with the medical staff. They hoped the scan would come back with some glimmer of hope. 

********

One salad, three crying fits and one long walk later, Kurt found himself waiting in the empty ICU room for his boyfriend, wringing his hands together like they were wet rags. The empty space the bed had occupied was playing mind games with him, piquing his anxiety. Images of Blaine flatlining on the way to, or from the MRI kept replaying in his brain. It made no sense, considering he had remained stable since Saturday. 

“Kurt, stop doing that,” Pam said, grabbing his hands and putting them in her lap. He hadn’t realized how much he was pulling at and rubbing his own skin until she snapped him out of his trance. A quick glance at his appendages showed him the red puffiness caused by the constant friction. 

“Shit. God dammit. I can’t stand this. I need a fucking shrink.” Kurt stood from the chair and began walking circles around the room. His nervous energy manifested in the motion of his swinging arms. Pam watched him, flabbergasted and devastated that he was being so hard on himself. After the tenth or eleventh circle of the room, she stopped him with her hands on his chest. 

“Kurt,” when he didn’t look at her, and instead grabbed handfuls of his hair, looked down and began to pant, she knew he was on the verge of a massive panic attack, “Kurt, it’s okay.” She forced him back to the chair in the corner and he leaned forward with his head between his knees. This was the second panic attack in two days. Thankfully, Pam had recognized the signs and moved him into the relief position before this one got too bad. He felt her docile hand rubbing circles on his back and it helped abate the symptoms. 

Mercifully, Dr. Nyugen entered the room just ahead of the nurses and orderlies. The bed appeared in the doorway seconds behind him, moving slowly as it was pushed over the threshold. They carefully maneuvered it to its original spot. Immediately, Kurt noticed that something was different about his boyfriend, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He assumed the doctor would tell him. 

It was time for another biology lesson. Kurt knew because Dr. Nyugen had entered with a large tan envelope in his hands again. As the nurses and orderlies were locking the bed in place and getting Blaine settled amongst the sheets, the doctor clipped the MRI images to the mounted wall light and switched it on. These images were much more detailed than the last, and there were several more to examine. When his assistant left the room, he made sure the door was closed before turning to Kurt and Pam to fill them in. 

“Kurt, are you okay? I saw you in the relief position. Do you want to wait until I explain this?” 

Kurt couldn’t shake his head any more vigorously than he was at that moment. He needed details and he needed them now,

“Trust me, Dr. Nyugen, waiting any longer will make my anxiety worse.” 

Nyugen wasted no more time and pointed to the first set of images,

“It looks like the wounds in the intestines are healing wonderfully. We will keep him on a liquid diet for a few days after he wakes up, and then gradually introduce food. I am actually very happy with his healing as of now. The only thing I want to monitor is his fever. It is still low grade, which means he is out of danger of sepsis, but we want to make sure to keep him on antibiotics to be safe.”

Nyugen was happy to see a sudden change in their demeanor. A sparkle of joy appeared, if only for a split second, and it was the first moment of optimism among them in the last few days. He decided to continue to the next detail,

“I have some really good news for you and it is that there was no fluid buildup evident on the MRI. Because of this, we were able to remove the chest tube,” the doctor indicated toward the bed and, when Kurt and Pam looked at the side of Blaine’s chest, they both smiled. The tube was gone, as was the reservoir which had been collecting the excess fluid. This was definitely a step in the right direction. They looked at each other, joyous in the fact that their loved one was recovering. When they turned back to Dr. Nyugen, he returned the smile and gestured to the second set of images,

“The collapsed lung is healing very well, however I want to keep him on the ventilator for a couple more days. The pressure is still hovering around eight or nine. As soon as he can get to four or five, we will relieve him of it. Based on his trajectory, I wouldn’t be surprised if we can take the tube out by Wednesday, but please don’t hold me to that.”

They both almost cried happy tears. Kurt leaned forward and put his face in his hands letting out an enormous sigh of relief. Dr. Nyugen decided to take that time to do a quick exam of Blaine and walked up to the right side of the bed. With his pen light, he shined light in both of Blaine’s eyes. Then, he walked up to the collection of monitors on the opposite side of the bed and checked the readings, hoping to stall enough for his patient’s family members to gain their composure. 

“So, that’s great! All good news, right?” Kurt commented, his voice sounding relaxed for the first time in awhile. The doctor nodded, but seemed slightly apprehensive. Kurt noticed, “What?” 

“It’s nothing serious, but I wanted to mention that this part of the scan,” he approached the image on the mounted light and pointed to an area that appeared to be the spine, “showed significant swelling due to the gunshot wound.”

“What does that mean for Blaine?” Pam inquired nervously. 

“It could mean nothing. We honestly won’t know until he wakes up and can tell us what he feels. I just want to warn you that the swelling could be pushing on his spinal cord and could make his legs weak or numb. Now that you're informed, you can help him to understand what’s going on, if need be. He will definitely have to do some physical therapy because this will make him immobile for a while. To help combat that, and to prevent clots from forming, I will have the nurses come and exercise his legs for him.” 

Kurt propped his chin up on his hand and stared at Blaine in the bed. Dr. Nyugen surmised that he was processing all the information he had been given. The room remained silent as the doctor continued with his duties. He pulled the covers down to Blaine’s feet and lifted his legs out. Kurt watched as Nyugen started doing exercises with the patient’s limbs. He stood from his chair and walked up to the foot of the bed, observing the steps carefully. 

“Can I try that?”

Dr. Nyugen paused for a second and then, seeing the seriousness in Kurt’s eyes, shrugged,

“Of course.” He stepped away and allowed Kurt to take his place. 

Kurt was going to take advantage of anything that brought him closer to his betrothed. Not only would this physical therapy fulfill that, but it would help him in his convalescence. His thin fingers worked their way under Blaine’s knee and pulled upward, causing his leg to bend slightly. He moved his right hand under Blaine’s ankle and pushed it toward his torso. Blaine’s leg bent at the hip and the knee, as if he were riding a bike. Kurt did this motion back and forth several times, but slowly. Dr. Nyugen looked on admirably. Not only was he appreciative of Kurt’s willingness to help, but he saluted his devotion to his loved one. Blaine was fortunate to have such a dedicated partner. 

“Thank you, Kurt. You can do that any time you wish. It won’t hurt him. It can also help you stay focused on something and prevent more panic attacks.” 

Kurt smiled triumphantly and continued with the PT exercises. The doctor patted him on the back as he turned toward the door. He exchanged a quick wave with Pam,

“I will be in to check on him in a few hours. Take it easy, everyone.” 

Pam watched Kurt helping Blaine for several minutes. She had no words for what she was feeling. All she knew was Blaine had undoubtedly found the right man. Kurt selflessly jumped in to do whatever he could for him. Pam was certain that Blaine had not met anyone else who had returned so much profound love. 

After he finished exercising both of Blaine’s legs, he gently laid them back on the bed and brought the covers up to his chest. With careful and gentle hands, he lifted Blaine’s arms and placed them on top of the sheets next to his sides. A quick glance at Blaine’s face gave him pause. His expression changed from calm and caring to concerned. He disappeared into the bathroom and started rummaging through the drawers. Pam listened, but did not move. She did not want to interfere with his tasks. Within seconds, she heard the water running and knew exactly what he was doing. 

Holding a wet rag in his hand, he approached the bed once more and began to gently wipe the sweat from Blaine’s face. Pam’s eyes followed Kurt’s hands carefully. She was observant of how incredibly docile his movements were, as if any excess pressure would cause his lover to shatter. Pam broke the silence,

“You know what I thought when I found out that he proposed to you?” she asked. Kurt didn’t turn back to face her, but responded,

“What was that?” 

“I thought you two are way too young. It’s going to fall apart.” She was apprehensive as she shared her opinion with so much candor. Kurt didn’t flinch. 

“You wouldn’t be the only one who did.” 

“But, I know now that I was wrong,” Pam’s voice was breaking and it was probably the only thing that could focus his attention elsewhere. When he looked at her, his face conveyed feelings of confusion. Not about what she said, but in regards to her sudden flood of emotion. Within seconds, her petite form was standing beside him. Her hand stroked Kurt’s cheek lightly and he could see her bottom lip quivering. 

“Pam?”

“You two should undoubtedly get married. I know because you are living your vows before you have even exchanged them. In sickness and in health. You are showing that right now. Your selflessness is the most endearing thing I have ever witnessed, Kurt. I can’t see Blaine living his life with anyone else. You are his soulmate, and I am so glad he found you.” 

She wrapped her arm around his waist and laid her cheek against his arm. He was completely taken by surprise by her kindness. Never before had anyone so eloquently described his relationship with Blaine with such praise. He had to fight back his own tears of gratitude as he returned the gesture by gently kissing the top of her head. He felt her squeeze his waist and took that as an affirmation. 

No more words were exchanged. With the monitors and ventilator creating their own quiet symphony, Kurt continued to delicately wash his boyfriend’s forehead of the sweat. 

_Tuesday_

Freeman and Sibaja-Mora were adamant that Kurt accompany them to the FBI headquarters. To Kurt’s chagrin, they had called him down from the ICU to tell him this, and taken him away from caring for his boyfriend. A trip downtown was more than an hour commitment and it put Kurt in a slightly sour mood. At first he had objected, saying there was no way he was leaving Blaine. But these two women had a way with words. They were also incredibly talented in the art of manipulation and had effectively turned his friends against him. When he arrived in the hospital lobby to meet them, he saw Sam and Cooper standing next to the two agents. Upon hearing his disinclination, Cooper and Sam spoke up, saying that it was probably really important if they had come all the way down to the hospital instead of calling. All he could do was roll his eyes as he gave in. 

“Remember, Kurt, they are here to help catch these assholes. Don’t you want them to be punished for what they did?” Sam asked. He did have a point, and Kurt did want justice. He was just nervous to leave his boyfriend in the fear that something would happen in his absence. He also wasn’t sure he was ready to see the faces of the men who tortured him. He had gone more than 24 hours without having to look at them and he noticed he was more at peace because of it. 

As predicted, Sibaja-Mora pulled her sedan into the designated spot of the FBI parking garage an hour and a half after they had all departed the hospital. Kurt rolled his eyes from the back seat with his arms folded in front of him like a pouty child. Sam shoved his face so closely to Kurt’s that it made him flinch.

“Come on, grumpy face.” Sam grabbed Kurt’s arm and dragged him out of the back of the sedan. He couldn’t believe his friend had subjected him to such unacceptable treatment. As soon as his feet were on the concrete floor of the parking garage, his protests started,

“Excuse me, what did you call me?” 

Sam laughed at Kurt’s diva face, “I called you grumpy face. Stop whining. We are here for a good reason, now turn around and follow the agents into the building, would you?”

Kurt knew he had no argument. And after a moment of self reflection, he started to realize that he was being rather rash. He had not hesitated to talk to the agents before, but they had brought all the information to the hospital. His sole source of anxiety was being away from Blaine. Cooper could sense it, and he pulled Kurt against him with an arm around his shoulders,

“Blaine is in good hands. Even better, he is improving every day. Don’t worry about him, Kurt. Focus on the here and now.” 

This was rich coming from the man who was in a puddle of guilt only the day before. He gave Cooper a judgmental look, taking him aback. He shrugged, as if to ask him what was wrong. Kurt knew what he was about to say might hurt, but Cooper needed to hear it,

“I will focus on the here and now when you drop your guilt for everything that has happened to Blaine.” 

His smile immediately melted away. He said nothing else to Kurt, but continued to walk with his arm around him. Cooper knew that Kurt’s comment came from a place of love, but being confronted about his feelings was not something he was prepared for. Kurt had effectively silenced him. 

The agents led them through several doors, down several hallways, left, right, and straight. By the time they had all reached their destination, Kurt’s head was spinning. It appeared similar to the conference room at the hospital with a long table surrounded by several office chairs. On the wall opposite them was a large screen. Kurt was feeling deja vu and his body shivered in the fear he would have to look at the horrifying images of his attackers. Sam could sense his tension and, much like the first meeting they had with these agents, he sat next to Kurt and acted as his source of support. 

Agent Freeman wasted no time getting started with the presentation. She pressed the small button on a long black remote and an image appeared on the screen. Cooper recognized it as the entrance to the Presidential where he and Pam had been staying. With the push of a button, a video came to life.

“So, we have had your decoys living out your routines for the last few days. Let me tell you, gentlemen, it has appeared to be successful. You will see here, that we have an FBI car outside your hotel,” she pointed to Cooper, “and they have collected a lot of useful footage for us.” 

Nothing seemed terribly out of place, as passers-by walked in front of the hotel entrance and disappeared from the frame. It looked like a normal, mundane weekday to the three of them. Then, from the left side of the screen, they saw Christian approach the building and lean against the support pillar, just like Elias had done days ago. It appeared that they were changing their routines and switching who they spied on. 

“We think that they are falling for the decoys.” Sibaja-Mora mentioned. 

The two doppelgangers of Cooper and Pam exited the hotel and approached what looked like an Uber car. Sibaja-Mora pointed to the vehicle, “We also have an undercover agent posing as a driver for their safety. But you will notice that they are getting familiar with your routines.”

The picture changed to a night shot of the hotel. Sure enough, Christian reappeared leaning against the same spot, as the Uber arrived, the decoys exited and walked into the hotel. Christian brought no attention to himself. He just watched and then walked away. 

“Then, our second stakeout took this footage outside your apartment, Kurt. We think Elias is getting braver. We have noticed that he is getting closer and closer each day.” 

The three men were shown a series of videos displaying the front of the Bushwick apartment. The camera was focused down the street, displaying the sidewalk and the entrance to the apartment on the far right side of the screen. In each video, Elias waited outside. At first, he was several doors down. Then, each new image showed him becoming more brazen, as he encroached on the stairs to the entryway. Each day, he watched intently as Kurt’s decoy left the apartment and got into an unmarked sedan that pulled away from the curb. 

Sibaja-Mora noticed that Kurt looked inquisitive as he watched the footage,

“What’s on your mind, Hummel?” she asked. He shrugged,

“I guess, I don’t understand what he is waiting for. He has had several opportunities to walk into the apartment when my decoy came home at night. Why hesitate?” 

Freeman nodded,

“Excellent question. The short answer is we don’t know for sure. We speculate that he is aware ‘you’ as in your decoy, is going to the hospital in an FBI vehicle. We also know that the whole gang is aware of our presence at the hospital outside Blaine’s room and staked out at the hospital entrance. While he is crazy, he’s not dumb. We think maybe he is just waiting for the right moment.”

“Are the decoys helping at our hotel?” Sam inquired. Both agents nodded and changed the screen to display footage outside the Hilton. Similar to Cooper and Pam’s decoys, this time Peter watched both of them exit the building and climb into an unmarked FBI vehicle standing in as an Uber. As far as the agents were concerned, they had die Stärke right where they wanted them. 

“So what are the next steps?” Kurt asked. His hands tensed around his arms. If he had it his way, he would take a cab back to Bushwick and take Elias down with his own hands. Being reintroduced to their faces had not brought him fear, but rage. He wanted revenge, and he could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins. 

“We will continue to monitor the three buildings and their behavior. You saw yourself that Elias is getting very close to your apartment. Each of the decoys has two agents at their designated place. So, if Elias were to show up, they could easily subdue him. We have eyes and ears all over that neighborhood, Kurt. If they are ready to pounce, we will know.” 

Sam and Cooper appeared very satisfied with what they had just seen. For once, they felt like they were getting close to the justice that Kurt and Blaine deserved. However, when they both looked at Kurt, they could sense there was something stirring in him. He looked about ready to jump out of his seat and shout. Cooper grabbed Kurt’s arm,

“What’s wrong?” he asked. When his eyes met the piercing blues of Blaine’s brother, there was a sudden moment of realization. Cooper didn’t have time to stop him,

“I want to go with you when you move in on them.” 

Freeman and Sibaja-Mora stopped dead in their tracks as their incredulous gazes met Kurt’s. He could see that they were about to give him a lecture that he was in no mood to hear. Freeman put the remote down and sighed heavily. Kurt was not backing down.

“You know that will be a monumental task to get my supervisor to let me do that, right?” 

Kurt shrugged, “I don’t care. I am going to be there.” 

Sibaja-Mora motioned for Sam and Cooper to follow her. They stood from their seats and were led out into the hallway, leaving Kurt and Freeman to stare each other down. As Freeman closed the distance between them Kurt stood from his chair, looking like he was about to engage in a physical altercation. He balled his hands into fists and held them rigidly at his sides. His furrowed brow suggested there was nothing Freeman could say that would convince him otherwise. 

“Kurt, I am going to be honest with you. We are dealing with internationally wanted criminals right now. What makes you think that any of the FBI higher ups would even think of letting you come near them for a second, especially since you have already been attacked by them?”

For a moment, Kurt was silent, but his facial expression did not change. He was steadfast in his demands and Freeman admired that. But he was letting his anger and need for revenge to cloud his judgement. 

“Because it’s personal, Agent Freeman. You said it yourself. When they were in Texas attacking black people, you felt it. It hit you close to home. Well, these assholes literally brought it to my home. He nearly killed my fiance in front of me. He almost killed me. How much more personal can it get than that? I’m not saying I want to be the one to put on the cuffs. I just want to watch as he is taken into custody and maybe get some closure. I can hide in one of the FBI cars. Just let me have this moment. I’m begging you.” 

As he spoke, Kurt’s tone changed from enraged to deeply imploring and almost apologetic. Freeman watched his psyche evolve before her eyes to show how much this experience had truly scarred him. 

“This,” she pointed to him, now with tears streaming down his face and his voice trembling, “this is why I can’t risk it. You risk either getting so pissed off that you attack him and get yourself killed, or you have a panic attack and take one of my agents away from protecting the rest of us.” 

Kurt crumpled into a chair, hugging himself in a self soothing motion. He felt utterly defeated, but deep down he knew she was coming from a place of reason. Her face appeared in his field of view as she knelt in front of him and took his hands in hers,

“Kurt, I am not saying you haven’t suffered. I am not saying that you don’t deserve justice or closure. I just don’t want all of the work you have done to help us go down the drain by getting yourself killed. Are you feeling me?” she waited patiently for some kind of response. Kurt remained a statue, showing nothing in his face this time. Freeman was getting frustrated, but she could relate to his stubbornness,

“God damn, you are a pain in the ass.”

After a moment’s silence, they both shared a quiet chuckle. Kurt’s gaze turned toward the floor, showing that he had finally succumbed. 

“Look, I will do what I can,” Freeman said. She pulled Kurt’s chin up to make him look at her, “But don’t get your hopes up, okay?” 

After an exchange of looks that showed a mutual understanding, Kurt stood from his chair and let out a deep sigh. Freeman motioned toward the door,

“Shall we?” 

As they were exiting the meeting room, Kurt happened to look into another office across the hall and stopped dead in his tracks. The individual seated in the uncomfortable metal chair beside the interrogation table was not someone Kurt expected to see this soon. With his elbows on the table and his face in his hands, Ignacio appeared panicked and neurotic. He exhibited nervous behavior of someone who was guilty of something. 

Without asking for permission, Kurt nearly stormed into the room much to the chagrin of the two agents escorting him. Ignacio almost leapt out of his chair, scared for his life. He pushed himself as far away from Kurt as he could, afraid of some kind of retaliation for what he had done. 

“Kurt, come on. You have no business being in here,” he heard Cooper’s voice behind him and just held his hand up to silence him. Ignacio remained frozen in the chair, too terrified to say anything. The sad thing was that Kurt wasn’t even angry. He was just so surprised and elated to see that he was alright, that his emotions had gotten the better of him. His face was full of questions, nothing more. 

“Ignacio…” he only uttered one word, and the usually bubbly barista crumpled into a pile of sobs and wails. 

“I am so sorry, amigo. I am so so sorry. I didn’t mean for anything to happen! They they just…”

Kurt didn’t allow him to finish his sentence. He walked around the table and knelt down in front of Ignacio. The barista had recoiled, covering his head with his arms as his sobs continued. He just kept repeating over and over that he was so sorry. Kurt closed the distance between them by pulling him into a warm embrace,

“Ignacio, I don’t blame you for anything. Neither does Blaine.”

The barista shook his head and tried to push away from Kurt’s hug. 

“But I led them right to you, amigo. You were hurt because of me.”

Agents Freeman and Sibaja-Mora rushed into the room, wondering what the commotion was. When they saw Ignacio in a heap on the chair, trying to get away from Kurt, they almost intervened. Kurt gestured to them that it was okay and to hold off. 

“IGNACIO!” The sudden raising of Kurt’s voice made him flinch as he stared into his friend’s eyes, dumbfounded. He froze and waited for the swing of Kurt’s fist. But, to his surprise, Kurt just smiled and stroked his cheek lightly with the outside of his hand. “You didn’t do anything. What happened to us was the choice of the gang members and no one else. Ignacio, they told us that they threatened you. What else could you do? We don’t expect you to die for us. You did what you had to.” 

Ignacio went from terrified to relieved in a split second. His body went from rigid to relaxed as he let his arms fall to his sides. They stared at each other for what seemed to be hours. Freeman approached from behind and tapped Kurt on the shoulder,

“It’s time to go, Hummel. He needs to give his official statement so we can let him go home.” 

Kurt nodded and gave Ignacio one final embrace before walking to the door. He turned back to the barista and smiled,

“It’s okay, Ignacio. Remember, we don’t blame you.”

Ignacio held his hand out, signaling for Kurt to wait a moment, “Is Blaine okay, amigo?”

Kurt nodded, “He will be. And you can bet we will be back to see you at your coffee stand in no time.” 

Ignacio pointed at him with both hands as his face beamed,

“That’s the Kurt I know! Thank you, amigo. It means the world to me!” 

They gave each other a final farewell and Kurt walked out of the room. As he followed the agents out of the building, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of triumph. A friendship had been saved and a man no longer felt overwhelming guilt for something that was not his fault. Kurt never would have forgiven himself if he had just walked by. 

_Wednesday:_

“So, what does that mean?” 

Pam’s inquiry had everyone on the edge of their seats. The room was alive with activity this morning. Promptly and 9 A.M. Dr. Nyugen had entered Blaine’s room with two nurses and started checking all of the readings on the machines. After standing at the ventilator for a few minutes, he had mentioned,

“It looks like he was able to make it through the last day and a half on a pressure reading of 5 or less.” 

The stunned silence indicated to Dr. Nyugen that what he said made no sense. Even though he had explained it to them more than once, Kurt knew that doctors spoke a language he would never understand. All he remembered was that lower pressure was a good sign. 

“It means that we can take him off the ventilator today.” 

Kurt, Pam and Cooper all nearly jumped out of their seats. Kurt’s eyes welled up as he covered his face with his hands, trying to stifle his excitement. Cooper and Pam embraced. Kurt saw his face beam like he hadn’t seen in a long time. This was the moment they had been waiting for. 

Dr. Nyugen gave an order to the nurses who promptly pulled up a cart from the wall opposite the bed. One of them began to pull out a couple of blue towels while the other walked to the head of the bed and moved it into a fully horizontal position. After prepping himself with medical gloves and pushing a few buttons on the ventilator, Dr. Nyugen stood next to the machine and watched for a moment. A look of satisfaction signaled the nurse at the head of the bed to remove the two large tubes from the mechanism in Blaine’s mouth. Then, they waited again. The doctor kept a close eye on the monitors, but said nothing. Kurt, Pam and Cooper were holding each other’s hands tightly at this point. Sweat began to pool in their palms as they waited in anticipation. Kurt just wanted to be able to speak to Blaine. Going nearly five days without hearing his boyfriend’s voice had been more torture to him than he could have imagined. What was worse, he had not been able to taste his luscious lips and he was beginning to feel deprived of the erotic sensation it gave him. 

“Okay, he is breathing on his own. I will remove it.” the doctor spoke quietly to the nurses as he took the place of the one at the head of the bed. A smaller tube was still protruding from Blaine’s mouth. Dr. Nyugen encircled his fingers around it and, in one swift motion, pulled it from Blaine’s throat. He laid the tube on one of the blue towels that had been laid out across Blaine's chest. The blue strap and mechanism over his mouth was removed, revealing the face that had been hiding for so long. 

Dr. Nyugen dismissed his assistants, who made sure to give Kurt and Blaine’s family a reassuring smile before exiting the room. The doctor continued to watch the monitors.

“What are you looking for?” Kurt inquired. 

“I am just looking at his oxygen levels and making sure they don’t decline.”

Kurt looked at Blaine’s face. His heart began to pound against his sternum. He felt like he was looking at the man for the first time in his life. That rush of exhilaration hit him like a freight train. Knowing that he was going to be able to have a conversation with the love of his life after thinking he was going to die filled his heart to the brim. 

Kurt got to his feet and rushed to the foot of the bed. He looked at the doctor expectantly,

“Can he hear us?” 

“He has been able to hear you this whole time, Kurt.”

Kurt stretched his arms over the foot of the bed and gently placed them on the sheets just above Blaine’s ankles. He opened and closed his fingers in a fanning motion, as if to massage the skin below the covers,

“We are here, Blaine. We love you.” 

Dr. Nyugen nodded after looking at the monitors and moved to the left side of the bed. Hanging from a hook near the head of the bed was a long, thin tube. As he uncoiled it, Kurt became curious,

“What’s that?” 

“It’s a nasal cannula. His oxygen is a little lower than I would like, so I'm just going to give him a little help.”

The prongs of the cannula were placed in Blaine’s nose as the tube was tucked behind his ears and fastened under his chin. Kurt wiggled his face, remembering the odd sensation of having his own in a few days before. Despite the uncomfortable memory, Kurt was elated to see Blaine slowly returning to normal. He was now hooked up to significantly less medical equipment and he was gaining his strength. 

“It looks like his fever is also down, so that is also good news. He is really making good progress, guys. I am very optimistic.”

“Blaine’s a fighter, that’s certain.” Cooper piped up from the corner of the room, his face absolutely beaming. 

Kurt observed Dr. Nyugen as he continued his ritual. One particular step required him to pull a syringe from the cart across the room. This piqued Kurt’s interest,

“What’s that for?” 

“I am going to start weaning him off the drugs so…’

“You’re going to wake him up?” Pam’s excitement was evident in her voice. The doctor nodded, his face returning the excitement. He carefully inserted the needle into the I.V. lead on Blaine’s arm and pushed in the plunger. As the medicine was administered, Kurt kept a close eye on Blaine’s face. Dr. Nyugen noticed and chuckled lightly,

“It will take awhile for this to counteract the anesthesia, Kurt. You might want to take a seat. The average time is about twenty minutes.” The drug was fully administered and the doctor discarded of the syringe appropriately before turning back to the three visitors,

“Make yourself comfortable. I will come back in about fifteen minutes to see how he comes out of the anesthesia.”

Kurt immediately grabbed his chair from the back of the room and pushed it to the side of the bed. There was no way he was going to miss a second of interacting with his soulmate after being deprived of it for so long. Working his fingers under Blaine’s hand, he pulled it up to his face and deposited a soft kiss on his knuckles. Despite the doctor saying it could take awhile for him to wake up, Kurt secretly hoped he could jostle his boyfriend back to the world of the conscious. To his chagrin, the kiss did nothing to stir him. 

Cooper walked over to the opposite side of the bed and combed his fingers through his brother’s messy curls. Tears were welling up in his eyes, and Kurt knew it was his overwhelming happiness that was bringing up so much emotion. He was happy to see he had started to leave the guilt behind. His role as an older brother weighed heavily on his shoulders, but none of what he saw before him was a result of his actions. Kurt was grateful to see Cooper coming out of the negative place he was once in. Pam looked on from her chair with the same level of gratification. 

“Cooper, are you familiar with the song ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside’?”

Cooper’s eyebrow rose in confusion as he snickered,

“Yes, but why?”

“It was the first song Blaine and I sang together. Would you mind singing it with me softly? Maybe it will help him come out of the haze faster.” 

Cooper's eyes lit up. He looked at Kurt and, poking his bottom lip out while touching his chest, he gave him an expression of endearment,

“That is so adorably you two. I would be honored to sing with you, Kurt. Lead the way.” 

The beeping monitor was drowned out by the harmonizing of the two men. Pam listened joyfully and even began to snap her fingers to the beat. With the assistance of the sunlight filtering through the windows, the somber ambiance of the room was beginning to turn around. Every few bars, Kurt made sure to give Blaine’s hand a gentle squeeze. His impatience was getting the better of him. He wanted to see those honey-colored irises looking back at him. 

After three duets between Cooper and Kurt, Dr. Nyugen entered the room. He stopped momentarily before approaching the bed and, looking at Pam incredulously, pointed at the two men. His face looked at her quizzically,

“When were they going to tell me they could do that?” he joked. They exchanged smiles as Pam held out her hand for him. He took it hesitantly and she held it affectionately,

“I want to thank you for everything you have done for Blaine. Your patience and your determination has helped him get this far. Thank you for treating our family with dignity.” Dr. Nyugen just patted the top of her hand and smiled,

“It has been my pleasure. Remember, the journey isn’t done yet. You can’t get rid of me that easily,” he joked. Pam chuckled and he walked to the foot of the bed. 

The singing had died down as the room was once again filled with only the soft beeping of the monitor. As the minutes ticked by, the four of them continued to count the number beeps they heard, hoping they would increase. Kurt’s eyes were glued to his fiance’s face. He continued to hold Blaine’s hand against his cheek and give it a gentle squeeze every now and then. He hoped for the moment that Blaine would squeeze back. 

Soon, they all saw Blaine’s eyes begin to move under his eyelids. This continued for several minutes as his senses slowly returned to him. Kurt noticed that the beeping of the heart monitor was beginning to increase, another indication of him regaining consciousness. His heart almost leapt out of his chest when he felt Blaine’s fingers curl around his hand. The moment was short lived, however. As his long eyelashes fluttered, the heart monitor was going dangerously fast. The doctor looked on nervously,

“Blaine? Can you hear me? Can you say something?”

Next, they watched as Blaine moved his head ever so slightly to the left and right as if searching for the voice he just heard. Finally, his eyelids lifted as he looked directly at Cooper. With tears streaming down his face, Cooper put his hand on top of his little brother’s head,

“Hey, buddy. Welcome back.” 

The normal cadence of his breathing began to increase, his breaths becoming more erratic. His heart rate increased yet again as his face began to search around him confusion. 

“Kurt…? Kurt?!” there was a sense of panic in his voice as he searched desperately for his soulmate. Kurt stood up and leaned into the bed,

“Blaine, I’m right here. Look at me, Blaine.” 

The dark haired man’s face turned abruptly in Kurt’s directions. His eyes were now wide and full of terror. Blaine began to pant heavily as he squeezed Kurt’s hand hard enough to make him flinch,

“KURT! THEY’RE HERE! THEY’RE GOING TO KILL YOU! YOU HAVE TO GET OUT!”

The words that had previously come out as nervous and uncomfortable were now in the form of hoarse shouts and wails of terror. He began to search the room frantically for answers as his brow glistened with a thin coat of sweat.

“Okay, Blaine, I need you to calm down.” Dr. Nyugen squeezed in behind Kurt and began to administer something into the I.V. bag. 

Suddenly, Blaine shot up into a sitting position. Immediately, he felt the consequences of this as he hunched over and groaned. Cooper took his other hand and tried massaging it, much like Kurt was doing to the other. Kurt reached his hand over to Blaine’s face and turned it toward him. It wasn’t until his blue irises met the Blaine’s hazel ones that he paused for a moment. His breathing was still erratic and his heart rate still high, but at least he wasn’t writhing around enough to hurt himself. 

“Blaine. It’s me. I’m right here. We are both safe now, okay?” 

Blaine’s eyes looked lost. It was almost as if he didn’t recognize his own fiance before him. As a glimmer of recognition came in the form of a slight smile, Kurt noticed Blaine’s eyelids beginning to close. Whatever the doctor had given him was beginning to kick in. His grip on Kurt’s hand loosened, allowing the blood to flow to his fingers again. Blaine and Cooper helped him ease back onto the pillow and soon noticed the beeping beginning to slow. 

Kurt placed his hand on Blaine’s forehead,

“Just keep breathing, Blaine. Take it easy. Remember, we are safe now. You have nothing to worry about. Just relax.” 

Before he could say anything else, Blaine’s eyes drifted closed and he fell into a deep sleep again. Kurt brought the dark haired man’s hand to his lips and began to leave kisses in several places. He was so overcome by what had just happened that he was afraid to let go of his boyfriend. 

“What the hell was that?” Cooper was the first to verbalize what was on everyone’s mind. 

“He has been in a coma for several days. Sometimes patient’s come out highly disoriented. It’s nothing to worry about, especially considering what he has been through.” 

Kurt didn’t care what everyone else thought. He had to be closer to his betrothed. This time, he leaned over and pressed his lips against Blaine’s. Even though he knew he wouldn’t get a kiss in return, he had to fulfill that one thing he had waited to do since Blaine had been placed on the ventilator. While still holding onto Blaine’s hand, he placed his other on his lover’s face and began to kiss him everywhere while being careful not to disturb the oxygen tube. He kissed his forehead, his cheeks, his chin, and his nose. Tears welled up in his eyes at the realization that he was finally able to touch Blaine the way he always had. 

“I think it is time we move him from the ICU. I will arrange to have him placed in his own room. You should expect to see a couple of people come up in a bit to collect him. And, since he is being moved, he will be able to receive visitors. I would just recommend that you let him gain his composure first.” 

Dr. Nyugen took the stunned silence as a signal to exit. When the door closed behind 

him, Pam burst into a fit of sobs from her chair. Cooper ran to her and pulled her into a protective embrace. Seeing her son so incredibly frightened had done a number on her senses. 

She felt so helpless and it just made her guilt weigh more strongly on her heart. Kurt just remained at Blaine’s side. While he wouldn't admit it to the others, the last few moments had terrified him. Seeing the look of horror on Blaine’s face brought him back to that traumatic night. The only other time the two of them had exchanged such expressions was when they were close to death. As his heart pounded against his sternum, he pulled his lover’s hand up to his chest and kissed it. He hoped that the next time he looked into those beautiful eyes, he would see him look back happily. 

_Thursday_

Images came and went before his eyes. Emotions poured in and disappeared. One second, he was consumed by terror, and the next his body was brimming with joy and relaxation. What was happening? Were these dreams? Was he gliding between consciousness and nightmares? The only concrete thing he could grasp were his memories. Eyes were looking back at him with hate, mouths were spitting hateful words, and fists were landing relentlessly on his body. He was consumed by pain that was not just physical but mental. Images of his soulmate enduring the same horror came back to him. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest, but he couldn’t move to help him. Then, his vision was once again overtaken by darkness. 

He heard his lover’s voice from a distance. It came first as an echo with no discernible words. Gradually he could make out a message,

_“Blaine. It’s me. I’m right here. We are both safe now, okay?”_

Safe? What did that mean? How could he be safe when his mind was so clouded and his body so full of pain. As the light crept between his eyelids, he was met with a foreign environment and strange faces. He felt warmth in his right hand, and then squeezed in an attempt to ground himself. Amidst the blur of the light, his eyes met the face he was trying so desperately to find. The baby blue eyes looked back with concern. He wanted to reach out and touch his face. But then the fear ate him from the inside out. They were here, ready to pounce. He had to get Kurt to safety. His words came out automatically. He pleaded with his soulmate, telling him to run. He had to get away and hide. When an unfamiliar face appeared in his field of vision, it was seconds before the darkness once again took hold. 

Blaine reemerged more gradually this time. The plethora of emotions was lessened. He forced himself to focus on his senses and what they were picking up. His ears were the most attentive at the moment and he listened carefully to the sounds around him. There weren’t many. The first he noticed was the light beeping sound of some kind of machine. Aside from that he was surrounded by silence. In an attempt to interpret the sounds, he decided to move on to what he could physically feel. 

The warmth in his right hand returned, this time as a source of comfort. He felt fingers interlace with his own as his body was overtaken with pure bliss. He recognized the feel of this person’s skin and it caused his heart to flutter. He risked a squeeze and could feel Kurt tense up next to him. His voice reached his ears, laced with surprise and worry,

“Blaine? Blaine, are you with me?” 

More warmth. This time on his forehead and running through his hair. He couldn't help but smile, albeit weakly, as he felt his soulmate’s love pour into him. It was at this moment that he continued to survey the other sensations around him. 

The softness of the bed below him helped to dull the aching that came from his midsection. On his left hand, he noticed something constricting his fingers. It was something metal and sturdy. An attempt to make a fist failed, and he decided to let it be for now. He moved his awareness to the skin of his abdomen and chest. He could feel the stickiness of the medical tape and the softness of the gauze against his skin. Every breath reinforced the sensation, giving his skin a soft pull as it held on. Finally, his attention focused on his face where he felt plastic against his nose and cheeks. The gentleness of Kurt’s hand in his hair distracted him. It was time for him to open his eyes. 

First he saw large, blurry shapes shrouded in light. Over the next few minutes, his visual acuity improved and he could discern the bed from the floor and the walls. His eyes searched his surroundings for something familiar. The sheets, the gown covering his body, the I.V. and gauze on his skin were all foreign. A gentle hand touched his cheek and pulled his face to the right. Kurt stared back at him, his eyes welling with joyful tears. Before any words were spoken, Kurt leaned in and pressed his lips against Blaine’s. 

Blaine wanted to hold him. He wanted to pull him into the bed and never let him go. But his body was overcome with weakness. He could barely lift his head off the pillow. His limbs felt like lead and his muscles protested when he wanted to lift his arm. 

When Kurt pulled away, Blaine smiled weakly at him,

“Hello, beautiful,” he said, in a raspy whisper. He was suddenly aware of the dryness of his throat. A forceful swallow did nothing to relieve the discomfort. Kurt noticed his unease,

“Water?” he offered. Blaine nodded and remained still as his boyfriend disappeared from his view. He closed his eyes and took in the sounds of water being poured into a cup. When the sound of Kurt’s footsteps came closer, he tried to push himself into a sitting position. The overwhelming discomfort in his torso and his crippling weakness forced him back against the pillow. He felt Kurt’s hand on his chest,

“No, no. Let me get it for you,” Kurt moved the cup close to Blaine’s face, allowing him to take the water in through a straw. The coldness of the liquid was a relief to his dry throat as he swallowed in large gulps. “The doctor said you would be weak when you came to.”

Blaine chuckled as he finished the last few sips and laid back. 

“He wasn’t wrong.” the sound exited his lips with ease this time as he gave a sigh of relief. After Kurt deposited the cup on the nearby tray, he pulled his chair as close as he could to the bed and stroked Blaine’s cheek with his fingers. They stared at each other for several minutes before Blaine spoke again, “Why am I so damn tired?” he closed his eyes and sighed heavily. 

“You’ve been in a medically induced coma for close to five days.”

Blaine looked confused,

“Why? What…” he surveyed his body again, taking in what had changed since he was last conscious, “what happened to me?”

Kurt took a moment to gather his thoughts. The conversation they were about to have was sure to be mentally and emotionally taxing.

“Elias shot you, Blaine. Your lung collapsed and you had to be on a ventilator until yesterday.” 

The memories came flooding back. Elias was approaching them with his gun aimed. He had a firm inclination to kill them then and there. Blaine had his hands on Kurt’s chest and forced him away, turning toward his attacker. The gun went off twice, but Blaine didn’t see it. He had his eyes closed tightly, ready for the blow. He didn’t remember any pain. It was just the overwhelming sensation of his breath escaping his body. After his back hit the floor, the memories were blurry at best. 

Blaine was suddenly aware of the metal on his left hand as he brought it up toward his face. His middle and ring fingers were fastened in a tight splint. There was no pain, but he was taken aback by the fact that he couldn't bend them. Then, a sudden realization hit him,

“It’s my fret hand. Two of my fret fingers were snapped by that jackass giant.” Blaine’s voice was laced with worry as he continued to stare at his injured appendages. When he turned to face Kurt, he saw no fear looking back at him. It didn’t put his mind at ease, however. “Am I ever going to be able to play guitar again? Piano?” He felt a reassuring hand on his arm,

“Blaine, the splint hasn't even come off yet. Stop jumping to conclusions.”

“What if my fingers are too weak to make chords?” he asked, his voice sounding like a scared child’s. Kurt shook his head,

“They might be weak at first, but the therapist will help you strengthen them she….” Kurt’s voice trailed off as Blaine’s attention was directed elsewhere. He had spent so much time focusing on his fingers, he hadn’t realized that there was little to no sensation below his waist. He was aware of his legs, but he could barely feel them. Focusing on his toes, Blaine tried to tell his brain to move them. Either his legs had fallen asleep, or the message was not making it to his feet because...

“Oh my God, Kurt. Why can’t I feel my legs?” 

Blaine had cut him off in his explanation of the upcoming physical therapy. He could tell by his expression that it was a subject he had been trying to avoid. The stunned silence made Blaine start to panic,

“Kurt, you’re not talking.” 

“You’re not paralyzed if that’s what you’re wondering. The tissue around your spine is swollen and it is pushing on your spinal cord because one of the bullets went right through you. The doctor said you might have some weakness. That’s another reason the therapist is scheduled to work with you. Here, let’s have a look see.” 

Kurt stood from his chair, releasing his grip on Blaine’s hand. Blaine watched him pull the sheets away and lay them in a collection at the foot of the bed. When Kurt worked his hand under his knee, Blaine could feel the pressure, but little else. The sensation was similar to the dead limb feeling he had when circulation was cut off as he slept. However, he wasn’t feeling the sudden rush and tingling that he normally got in those instances because his limbs were simply too weak to move on his own. 

“What are you feeling? Can you tell that my hand is here?” Kurt began to survey Blaine’s condition. Blaine nodded,

“Sort of.”

“Try lifting your leg at your hip.” 

Blaine concentrated. Focusing all of his energy on one particular part of his body was strange to him. But he pushed himself to tense the muscles in his thigh. Using his core to assist, he could feel his leg begin to move toward him, but only centimetres. He tried harder, but got little to no result. That movement alone was draining him and he let his limbs fall limply against Kurt's hand, while panting with exhaustion. He felt so defeated, even as Kurt smiled triumphantly in response to the little movement he made. 

“That tires me out. I’ve never felt so weak in my life.” 

Kurt took over with the exercises. Working his other hand under Blaine’s ankle, he began to lift his knee toward his torso, much like a scissor kick exercise. Blaine closed his eyes and concentrated on the sensations he was feeling. Mostly, he was happy to be this close to his boyfriend again. While he had been unaware of the last few days, his mind felt it had been a significant amount of time since he was last in Kurt’s arms. 

“Any difference?”

Blaine continued to assess what sensations were coming to him. He did notice something,

“It’s kind of like a light switch. When my leg is in one position I feel very little. But when you bring it up to my chest, it’s kind of like it just fell asleep and I can feel a tingling from my hip to my toes.” 

“That’s good news!” a man in a pristine white coat with short black hair and thin framed glasses entered the room. His face was absolutely beaming as he spread his arms out before him, almost like he was going to hug the two of them. He appeared pleased with the physical therapy that was occurring. Blaine returned the smile, but had no idea who he was. The doctor could see his confusion and he took Blaine’s hand in his own,

“Blaine, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Dr. Nyugen and I have been looking after you since you came in Friday evening.” As Blaine shook hands with him, Kurt spoke up while he continued with the exercises,

“And he has been amazing, might I add.” 

“I appreciate it, Kurt,” the doctor looked sheepish, “but It is your strength that has brought you back to us. Now, I just wanted to come in and check in with you. It’s the first time we have had a chance to speak to one another. Is there anything I can help explain for you, Blaine?” 

Dr. Nyugen stood patiently next to the bed and began to prepare his stethoscope by placing the prongs in his ears. Blaine said nothing and just stared ahead, almost frozen. The doctor took it as a signal that he was thinking of what to say and placed the diaphragm against his chest. 

“Deep breath in,” Blaine inhaled, feeling the air fill his lungs. It felt good to finally be able to take in breath on his own. When the doctor told him to exhale, he did so happily. They repeated the step a few more times with the doctor listening carefully. When he returned the stethoscope to hanging around his neck, Blaine thought of his first question,

“How long do I need this?” He pointed to the nasal cannula.

Dr. Nguyen looked at the monitors behind him,

“Well, your oxygen is about 86. I’d like to see it at least at 95 to be safe. I know it’s uncomfortable. We can switch to an O2 mask if you prefer.” Kurt interrupted from the other side of the bed. Blaine had barely noticed him switch spots in order to exercise his other leg. 

“Then I can’t kiss you.” When Kurt winked at him, he chuckled and then shook his head.

“I’ll just keep this.” The humor died down soon. He turned his attention from the exercises and looked the doctor directly in the eyes, “what about my legs? Am I ever going to be able to walk again?” 

Dr. Nyugen pulled up a chair and folded his arms in front of him. Blaine prepared himself for a long explanation. 

“You need to put this into perspective. Would I be correct in assuming you have been very active for most of your life?” Blaine nodded and he continued, “You just woke up from some pretty serious trauma. Your body has not been still for this long since you were a baby and it’s in shock. You need to give it a chance to bounce back, Blaine. You WILL walk and dance again. Just be patient with yourself.” 

Impatience was one of Blaine’s flaws. Dr. Nyugens words made sense, and he knew there was truth to them. But, he was secretly hoping for a magic button that would bring back all of his strength. The strong desire to jump out of the bed was hammering inside his head. Unfortunately, his overwhelming fatigue was weighing him down, keeping him vulnerable and dependent. 

Blaine closed his eyes and continued to concentrate on the sensations that came to him as Kurt continued to move his leg. He also became aware of the doctor pulling down his hospital gown in order to check the bandages. Feeling a bit like a lab rat, Blaine just remained still as his two caretakers continued their work. He escaped to happier memories at NYADA when he and Kurt sang together for their classmates. He escaped to the moments they shared during the morning hours before leaving for class. All of it brought him a sense of relief.

“Your incisions are healing well. Hopefully another week and we won't’ need to put gauze on them. Tomorrow I have you scheduled to work with a physical therapist. His name is Dr. Jordan Fisher and he is going to push you, so I suggest you try to get a good nights sleep tonight. As for me, I will probably pop in every once and awhile, but I will otherwise leave you alone. Do you have any more questions for me, Blaine?”

When Blaine responded with a shake of his head, the doctor nodded and exited the room. Kurt had already finished pulling the covers back to their original spot and sat down on the other side of the bed. At the moment he was on his phone, responding to a text message. 

“Anyone of interest?” he asked. Kurt nodded and smiled,

“Yes. Sam is asking about you. As is my dad. I am sharing the good news with them.” Blaine was pleasantly surprised by that comment,

“Sam is here? And your dad? Really?”

Kurt seemed confused as he tilted his head to the side and furrowed his brow,

“Why wouldn’t they be, Blaine? They care about you too, you know.” 

Blaine shrugged,

“I know. It’s just a long way for your dad to come. I would have expected him to go home after he found out you were okay.” 

Kurt put his phone back in his pocket and took Blaine’s hand, being gentle and careful not to hurt his broken fingers. Blaine watched him move his hand up and down his arm in a soothing gesture. His mouth curled into a slight smile,

“Blaine, we all love you. Your brother and your mom are here too. They just went to get something to eat. They should be back soon.”

He flinched when he heard that last comment. His mother? She didn’t have to. Why inconvenience herself? The fact that Cooper was pulled away from being Mr. Hollywood also shocked him. He digested that information while Kurt took his hands away to finish responding to yet another message. When he had put his phone away, Blaine could feel his boyfriend’s eyes staring at him. Then the emotions started to come flooding back. His mind went back to that horrific night. 

“Kurt,” Blaine couldn’t finish his sentence. It was both a question and a statement. He felt the tears burning his eyes as his heart rate increased. His boyfriend sat patiently in the chair, taking his hand again and stroking his arm like he had before. Blaine was grateful for Kurt’s willingness to wait for him to collect his thoughts. He turned to his lover, whose face was now blurred by the welled up tears. 

Kurt didn’t hesitate to stand and lower the side handrail of the bed. After removing his shoes, he gently laid down next to Blaine while placing his hand lovingly over his chest. Kurt was careful not to pull on any cords or tubes as he did so, and he pressed his forehead against Blaine’s. He was relieved to feel the warmth next to him. It brought him back to better moments that now seemed so far away. 

“You can say anything to me, you know that, right?” Kurt whispered. Blaine’s mouth curled into a frown, the sobs bubbling up from his chest. When Kurt put his hand on Blaine’s cheek, he crumbled. The tears and the cries came without reservation and he cowered into his lover’s chest, hiding his face in shame. He couldn't see it, but Kurt too, was beginning to cry with him. They didn’t have to explain why. There was mutual understanding of their pain. It was a horrible experience, but one they had shared and survived. It made them that much stronger for it. 

“Are you okay?” Blaine managed to ask between sobs. He felt Kurt's arm around his shoulders and he pulled him in closer.

“I am now.” he responded. He did that thing that Blaine loved. His hand stroked through his hair lovingly and brushed over his skin. While the usual euphoric sensation overtook him, it wasn’t enough to stifle his sobs. 

“I was so scared, Kurt. I thought we were going to die. I thought we were done and we would never see each other again. I just...I couldn’t,” he risked a look at his lover’s face and, when observing that he too was crying, realized that they shared the same feelings. Kurt just nodded and pulled Blaine back into the tight hug. 

They remained there for over an hour. Blaine took solace in the comfort of Kurt’s warmth and kindness. He found himself fortunate to have found such a loving and understanding partner. In that moment, he was certain he had found the best man to share his life with. The fatigue began to take over and his sobs quieted. 

Soon enough, Kurt watched as Blaine fell into a deep slumber and he was grateful. Staring at his lover’s face long after he had fallen asleep, he leaned in and brushed his lips over Blaine’s. Things would get better. He just hoped Blaine would soon realize it too. 

_Friday_

The hospital was alive with activity. Kurt had excused himself after Pam and Cooper had arrived to speak to Blaine. They deserved time alone to share their feelings and cry. He knew that, once Blaine heard what Pam had told him a few days ago, he would crumble like he had the night before. The rush of emotion had completely drained him, causing him to spend most of the day in a deep slumber. Even the many visits by Dr. Nyugen had not stirred him from his sleep. 

When he had awoken this morning, however, his demeanor and energy level had greatly improved. He was sitting up, smiling and chatting happily with the nurses in his usual charismatic way. Kurt saw it as a blessing and felt comfortable stepping out for a while. It was the best he had seen his boyfriend in the last few days and it filled him with joy. 

Kurt was seated at one of the cafeteria tables next to the window. Burt sat opposite him, searching his face for answers as he stared blankly at the people outside. Kurt was unsure of what else he could tell him. He had already given an hour long, detailed description of the previous night's events including all that was exchanged between him and Blaine.Thankfully, Artie had started a text conversation with him, inquiring about Blaine’s current condition. It gave him a chance to escape from his father’s judging eyes. 

_ <<How’s Blaine doing, buddy?>> _

_ <<He’s awake and out of the ICU. Last night was rough, but he is much better this morning.>> _

< _ <AWESOME! Can he have visitors?>> _

Kurt smiled. He could hear the excitement in Artie’s voice, even though the message was not spoken. 

_ <<He certainly can. Thinking of visiting today?>> _

“I know you’re trying to ignore me, Kurt.” 

Kurt flinched and looked at his father with his annoyed teenager expression. 

“I’m not ignoring you, dad.” 

Burt laughed out loud,

“Kurt, you’re my son. I know you more than you realize. It’s okay, you don’t have to lie.” 

His heart nearly leapt into his throat when his phone pinged from his hands. Artie had responded,

_ <<Most certainly. I want to come over ASAP.>> _

“Dad, you look like you want something from me. I have nothing else to tell you.” he said matter-of-factly. Kurt tilted his head to the side with an incredulous expression on his face,

“Kurt, I don’t want anything. I am just so glad to see you smiling and relaxed for the first time in a long time.” 

Kurt was taken aback by the sincerity of his father’s words. He was right. Kurt had not been able to relax for the last week. Seeing his boyfriend basically coming back from the brink brought him new, positive energy that he didn’t think he would ever feel again. His mouth curled up into a smirk,

“Thank you, dad.” 

Turning back to his phone, he finished his conversation with Artie,

_ <<He has PT in about an hour. I think he would really appreciate having you there to support him. Do you mind?>> _

There was a pause between messages. Kurt hoped he hadn’t overstepped. Artie had a unique understanding of Blaine’s situation, having been in a wheelchair most of his life. He had also had his fair share of PT, which brought a different perspective that Blaine would need. His response appeared on the screen, bringing a grin to Kurt’s lips,

_ <<Absolutely. I wouldn’t miss it. See you soon. About half an hour out.>> _

_ <<GREAT! He is in room 206. See you soon!>> _

“See, there you go again.”

Kurt was dumbfounded by that comment. He raised an eyebrow quizzically,

“What?”

“Your face beamed when you finished that conversation. Do you mind me asking what it was about?”

Normally, he would have been very hesitant to share his conversations with his father. Especially now that he was an adult, he found himself divulging less and less. But this was different. Everything about his exchange with Artie was positive and worth telling,

“Artie is coming over to visit Blaine. He wants to be here to help with PT.” 

Burt reached is hand out and patted Kurt on the arm,

“Good! I am so glad he is going to get to see some of his friends. It will be the pickup he needs,” he practically exclaimed. 

“I agree. He might need a pick-me-up soon,anyway. He’s talking with his brother and mom right now. I know it is a tear fest in that room right now. But it’s a conversation he needs to have. Pam has been desperate to be with him for a long time. This will be good bonding time for them.” 

After about twenty minutes of sitting in silence and watching the passers-by, Burt excused himself. He had recently discovered a lovely courtyard on the premises of the attached hotel and had found it a perfect place to sit and unwind. Kurt glanced at his watch and saw that his friend was about to arrive. As he stood from his chair, discarded his coffee cup and made his way to the elevator, he noticed a presence near him. A quick glance behind confirmed that it was his personal security. He was thankful for the officer, it did get creepy at times. They exchanged nods, but said nothing as the elevator doors opened. 

When he arrived at room 206, he heard laughter. It was the most glorious thing to grace his ears in a week. Crossing over the threshold revealed that Sam had come to visit and was doing his adorable impressions for Blaine. His boyfriend’s face was red and streaked with tears of joy.

“Sam, be careful. You’ll make him pop his stitches,” Kurt lectured jokingly. 

Blaine waved at him, dismissively while still laughing,

“He can pop them all he wants. This Is the best I’ve felt in the last week.”

Kurt shot him a look of mock offense, making him stop in his tracks for a second,

“And all the cuddling we did last night? What about that?” 

Blaine squinted at him and mockingly spit out his tongue. Kurt just responded by waving it off and chuckling, “You know I’m kidding. I am glad you are feeling better. Thank you, Sam. He has needed a good smile.” 

Sam just gave him a pretend bow,

“My pleasure.” 

The room was full of positive energy. Kurt soaked it up and hoped it would last. Blaine’s room was not only more spacious, but it was adorned with several chairs and a couch along the window. Kurt took the liberty of finding a comfortable spot there as Sam continued with entertaining the two of them with his goofy antics. He took the time to assess Blaine’s appearance and how it had changed. The bruise around his eye and cheek were almost gone. Other than the slight change of skin tint, he could barely tell it was there. The bandage had been removed from the burn, showing a faint scar. The word was barely discernible, but it still appeared red and angry. Thankfully, Blaine’s youth and good health aided in the healing of the wound. Even Dr. Nyugen had mentioned his surprise after checking and changing some of his bandages. Overall, his demeanor and mood were improved. At that very moment, watching him respond to Sam’s hilarious antics, he wouldn’t have guessed he had experienced a trauma. 

“Guess who is here!!!??” An excited voice bellowed from the door as all eyes moved in that direction quizzically. When they all saw Artie with his hands in the air in celebration, all three of them cheered,

“ARTIE!!!”

The wheelchair moved at lightning speed, displaying Artie’s excitement to see his friend awake and well. He moved as closely as he could to the side of the bed and, when he saw Blaine try to lean over the railing to greet him, stopped him,

“No, no, I’ll come to you. Don’t strain yourself.” 

They took each other’s hands and shook them happily. Kurt could tell that Blaine was very grateful to see Artie. Something in his face changed when the man wheeled himself up to him. 

“It’s good to see you, Artie.” Blaine said. Artie exchanged nods with Sam and Kurt as they approached him and gave him a warm embrace. 

“Once I heard you could have visitors I thought I should come annoy the shit out of you. How could I turn down that chance, huh?” Artie shrugged jokingly with his eyes wide in excitement. Blaine chuckled and leaned back against the bed slightly. Kurt could tell that he was beginning to get tired but, in his usual Blaine way was trying to hide it from his friends. The moment of hilarity became serious very quickly. Artie looked at his friend in the bed pensively. He had the expression of a parent seeing his child after a long time apart.

“I am really glad you’re okay, Blaine. Truly.” 

Blaine blushed and looked down at his lap. He nodded and looked back up at Artie and smiled,

“Me too. I’m glad you’re here.” 

Two individuals entered the room before any more words were exchanged. One carried a complicated looking mechanism that looked like a foot pedal of some kind. She set it on the floor in the corner and exited. The other was in dark blue scrubs with short sleeves that displayed his strong arms. He approached the bed and clapped his hands together. His green eyes beamed with excitement as he looked at Blaine and then glanced around at his friends. 

“Well, who started the party and didn’t invite me?” he said jokingly. There was a collective chuckle as the man held his hand out for Blaine, “I am Dr. Jordan Fisher and I am here to do some physical therapy with you.” His olive skin was free of any blemishes and Kurt was slightly jealous. His arms were perfectly toned and his biceps bulged slightly from under the sleeves. It was evident he was experienced with having to support many of his patients with all of his strength. His black hair was combed back with gel, reminding Blaine of his morning ritual. Even though the man was much larger and slightly intimidating, Blaine was comforted by the kindness in his green eyes. They smiled without him having to move his lips. It made the situation much less awkward. 

“Dr. Nyugen told us about you.” Blaine said. Dr. Fisher backed up and jokingly put his hand on his chest while opening his eyes wide. 

“Uh oh. I hope he didn’t tell you _everything_ about me, my friend.” Blaine chuckled again. Fisher looked regrettably at the rest of the guests, “I am going to have to ask your friends to leave the room for this. It may get awkward for you, and I want you to have some privacy.”

Blaine hesitated and looked at each of his friends individually before turning back to the doctor who stood patiently with his hands behind his back. 

“Actually, I’d rather they stayed. Is that alright?” 

Fisher shrugged,

“Hey, if it’s alright with you, it’s fine with me. Shall we start?” 

Blaine nodded, his face beaming with determination. The doctor took a quick look at the monitors and then noted the nasal cannula still tucked behind Blaine’s ears. He pointed at it,

“Since Nyugen still has you on oxygen, and your levels are a little lower than I’d like, I won’t push you too hard today. I don’t want you passing out on me, got it?” he took on the tone of a drill sergeant and pointed at Blaine lightheartedly. Blaine gave him a mock salute and chuckled. Artie and Sam took their places either along the opposite wall or on the couch where they were out of the way. 

Fisher instructed Blaine to lay back against the bed. He lowered it into the fully horizontal position and then stood at the side of the bed, looking down at his patient as he explained, 

“You were in a coma for about five days. Any lack of movement means your muscles start to atrophy, which basically means get weaker. Now, I want you to try to sit up all the way without using your arms to support you. It may seem easy, but don’t be alarmed if it is difficult, okay?” when Blaine nodded against the pillow, Fisher walked to the foot of the bed and held his arms out in front of him. “Alright, Blaine, show me what you’ve got.” 

Blaine was flabbergasted by how much strength it took to get into a sitting position. He had tensed his whole core and gotten no results. After try number three, he was finally able to reach out and take Dr. Fisher’s hands. He was nearly drenched in sweat and out of breath. What in the world was wrong.

“I know what you’re thinking, Blaine and I need you to stop it. You’re going to be weak, it’s just the way it is. I don’t want you giving up on me, though,” his voice wasn’t mocking or discouraging. It came from a place of care and support. “I want you to do this three more times for me, okay? Try again. Lie back.” 

Blaine did as he was instructed and, with the encouragement of his three friends, was able to execute three more sit ups. His curls were soaked in his sweat. Beads of liquid streamed from his scalp and into his eyes. Dr. Fisher handed him a towel and gave him a moment to wipe his face. 

The covers were removed from his body, revealing his legs and feet. Blaine was elated to feel the coolness of the breeze created by the movement of the sheets. His eyes lit up,

“I could feel that more than yesterday.” he said. Dr. Fisher smiled and gave one single, loud clap, making Kurt and the others jump. 

“See? That’s a good sign! Now, I need you to lie flat again and I am going to put my hand under each of your feet. I want you to push against it, like you’re putting your foot on the gas.” 

As Blaine stared at the ceiling, he could feel the pressure of the doctor’s hand against the sole of his right foot. With all the strength he could muster, he flexed his toes in the direction of the foot of the bed. It was like there was a barrier between his brain and the muscles in his feet. He tried again and got no result. 

“You got this, Blaine. Try one more time.” 

To his relief, his foot finally moved, albeit minimally against the doctor’s hand. They switched to the other foot and, after several attempts, Blaine was able to repeat the action. More sweat collected on his brow and he diligently removed it with the towel. Dr. Fisher moved to Blaine’s right side and held his hand about three inches above his shin. 

“Now, what I need you to do is lift your leg off of the bed and touch my hand. We are working on strengthening your quads this time. Take your time and do what you can.” 

This task proved much more difficult. Getting his toes to bend was one thing, but lifting his entire limb was near impossible. It felt like it was made of pure lead. No matter how many times he tried to convince his brain to move it, nothing happened. He was beginning to get frustrated and he shook his head adamantly,

“It’s not working. I can’t get it to move.” He panted with exhaustion. The doctor shook his head,

“Yes you can. Just keep trying. You got your foot to move. This is just a little tougher.” 

After several more tries Blaine could finally feel his leg lifting from the bed. He gasped with excitement as he turned his gaze down and saw his shin meet the doctor’s palm. Just as soon as he did so, his leg fell limply against the bed. He heard his three friends cheering for him and blushed. 

Dr. Fisher moved to the other side of the bed and had him do the same thing with that leg. After the same steps and the same level of frustration, Blaine was finally able to deliver. Kurt could see from his position on the couch that Blaine was beginning to surrender. He brought it to Sam and Artie’s attention and the three of them cheered at the same time,

“Come on, Blaine! You can do this!” 

As they continued to give him messages of encouragement, Dr. Fisher walked to the mechanism that had been set in the corner of the room and brought it over to the bed. It looked like a metal plate with a mock car gas pedal built onto the top. On one side of the pedal was a metal clamp. On the other side, near the base was a knob with several numbers on it. The doctor removed the clamp, releasing the pedal and showing its full range of motion. It popped out to about a foot off the base, making Blaine jump. Dr. Fisher laid the base against the foot of the bed so that the pedal was facing Blaine. When it was mounted to the railing, he took Blaine’s right foot and placed it on the pedal. 

“Alright, now we have to work on some of your other muscles. This is going to trigger your hamstrings, glutes and quads. I need you to push the pedal into the base as hard as you can. I have it set to a low resistance right now, but we will gradually increase it as you gain your strength.” 

The doctor held the base tightly with his hands and waited for Blaine to start moving. After a few moments of receiving nothing, he looked up at his patient and saw tears streaming down his face. He tilted his head to the side,

“I can’t. It’s not working,” Blaine said in utter defeat. 

Artie rolled his wheelchair up to the side of the bed and took Blaine’s hand. 

“Yes you can, Blaine. I believe in you. I know it’s easier to just give up, but you are NOT that person.”

Blaine turned toward his friend, his mouth curled into a frown. Between his sobs, he responded,

“It’s not going to work. I can’t.”

Artie’s brow was knitted in mock frustration,

“That’s what you said about the last two exercises and look what you did. If you can do those, you can do this. Come on, Blaine. Show me what you’ve got! I’m not letting you back down!” 

The shouting both surprised Blaine and brought him a new sense of strength. He closed his eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath. As his tears subsided, he concentrated and put all of his energy into his hip and thigh. To his surprise, he could feel the pedal moving down. His eyes widened as he looked at Artie again. 

“See? I told you! Now do it again!” 

Soon the tears turned to laughs of joy. After about twenty minutes, he had successfully completed ten presses of the pedal with each leg. He never thought he would be so proud of himself for completing such a simple task. Having Artie next to him, cheering him on was a tremendous source of strength and encouragement. He was eternally grateful for his presence. 

The hour with Dr. Fisher was up. Blaine had been moved back into a slightly reclining position in the bed and the last of his sweat had been wiped away. Dr. Fisher congratulated him on his hard work and told him to expect to see him every day for the next week. He was about to exit the room when Blaine asked,

“I am proud that I was able to do all of that doctor, but…” he paused and stared at his hands in his lap. The doctor looked at him expectantly and approached the bed again, the pedal mechanism hanging awkwardly from his right hand.

“But what?” he urged him on. 

“Am I ever going to be able to dance again?” He could feel the emotion coming up again, and took a deep breath to stifle it. Fisher smiled and stood at the foot of the bed,

“I know you are used to doing a lot more than what you just accomplished. Please don’t feel defeated just because this simple task was difficult. Your body has been through hell in the last week. It won’t bounce back like that,” he snapped his fingers, “Your spinal cord wasn’t damaged. We just have to teach your legs how to walk again. It will come back. I know you have probably heard this several times but, you just have to…”

“Be patient,” Blaine interrupted by finishing his statement. Dr. Fisher chuckled,

“I heard from Dr. Nyugen and your fiance here that you don’t like to keep still for very long. You are the kind of guy who is going 100 miles per hour all the time. Well, consider this convalescence a chance to slow down and enjoy good company. Like what you have here,” he pointed to Kurt, Sam and Artie. “You have a great team of friends here, Blaine. They won’t give up on you and neither will I. You just can’t give up on yourself, okay?” 

Blaine sheepishly looked at his lap again, until the doctor leaned over the bed to meet eyes with him.

“Okay?” he repeated. Blaine snickered,

“Okay.”

“That’s my man,” Dr. Fisher held his fist in front of Blaine. When Blaine obliged by fist bumping him, the doctor gave him a goofy cheer and headed out of the room. 

Almost immediately, Blaine leaned into the sheets and gave out a sigh of exhaustion. Kurt walked up to the bed and combed his hands through Blaine’s messy curls. He didn’t even care that they were drenched in sweat. Artie rolled up next to Kurt and Sam walked to the other side of the bed. When Blaine looked at each of them individually, he felt a rush of gratitude and humility. 

“Thanks, guys. I couldn’t have done this without you.” 

They said nothing and Kurt leaned in to exchange a loving kiss with his fiance. Artie and Sam looked on and smiled. The kiss lasted longer than either of them had expected until Artie sarcastically quipped,

“Geez, guys, get a room, would ya?” 

Blaine and Kurt giggled. 

“We wouldn’t miss this for the world, Blaine. You’re not in this alone.” Sam said, placing his hand affectionately on his friend’s shoulder. Blaine nodded and blushed. When he met eyes with Sam again, he made a goofy face, “I can kiss you too, if you want me to.” He said jokingly. 

The room erupted in laughter. It was because of moments like these that Blaine and Kurt knew they would come out of this horrific event triumphantly. 


	13. I Just Can't Get Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt and Blaine finally get the justice and satisfaction they deserve. This one might keep you on the edge of your seat for a bit!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say, this one was very satisfying to write. I hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> Language notes:  
> 1\. ich gewinne = I win

The sound of water was always a channel for relaxation in Kurt’s mind. Thankfully, his father pointed out the single nicest amenity offered by their FBI provided accommodations. Nestled within the confines of the hotel’s property was a handsomely constructed courtyard, complete with an ornate fountain. Accessible just outside the seating area near the lobby, it was carefully laid out with a network of stone paths and peppered with colorful flowers and flourishing trees. Several stone benches were situated in conveniently shaded areas of the courtyard, providing guests with a great place to recharge. 

Kurt was seated at one of the benches close to the fountain, mesmerized by the sound and motion of the water. His mind was also calmed by the fact that he was accompanied by Blaine. It had been three days since his first physical therapy session and he was getting stronger each day. Dr. Nyugen had given him clearance to be free of the oxygen support and to leave the premises of the hospital so long as he was assisted by one other person. He sat peacefully in a wheelchair next to the bench with his hand in Kurt’s lap. Burt sat alongside his son, admiring the couple’s closeness and devotion to each other, even in a simple moment. The three of them took solace in each other’s presence. They absorbed the peace of the minute, allowing themselves to be present in order to get the most out of the catharsis. 

The peace was interrupted by the buzzing of Kurt’s phone. Blaine continued to watch the water cycling from the fountain, even as Kurt jostled around to retrieve his phone from his pocket. When he placed it to his ear, the voice on the other end sounded authoritative and almost frantic,

“Hummel, we are moving in right now. I have a car waiting outside the front of the hospital. Get your ass out there in the next five minutes or you are not going to get your moment of closure,” Freeman was direct and firm. Before Kurt could protest, the line went dead. He stared at the screen for a moment before standing from his chair. Blaine and Burt looked quizzical of his haste. 

“I am so sorry, but that was Agent Freeman. I have to meet her outside.” 

Blaine looked unphased by this comment and just shrugged slightly, his lips curling into a slight smile. 

“It’s okay, Kurt. I’m happy right here.” 

“But their conversations tend to go long, I might miss your PT.” Kurt sounded guilty. Blaine shrugged again,

“It’s okay, Kurt. They have important information to share with you. I will survive. I’ve got several cheerleaders,” he said, winking at Burt. Kurt tilted his head to the side, his brow knitted in gratitude. He squeezed his lover’s shoulder and snuck in a quick kiss before darting through the exit. 

When he reached the front of the hospital, an unmarked, black sedan waited near the no parking zone. A young female agent leaned on the hood with her arms folded in frustration. As soon as Kurt came into view, she proceeded to the driver’s seat and buckled her seatbelt. They were pulling away from the curb just as Kurt was closing the door to the passenger side back seat. 

“Mr. Hummel, I am Agent Gomez. You are going to listen closely to the instructions I am going to give you directly from Freeman and Sibaja-Mora. No matter what you see or hear, you stay in the back seat. You are not to draw any attention to yourself under any circumstances, is that understood?” Her tone was strict and unwavering. Kurt nodded obediently and responded,

“Yes, I understand. But, can you tell me what’s going on, exactly?” 

She drove quickly, but not dangerously. Kurt knew that whatever was happening, had just begun. 

“Footage from the stakeouts showed each member of the gang advancing on their respective vigils. We sent in our decoys to each location, with our undercover agents already planted in nearby rooms. We received word from more than one of our undercover agents that the die Stärke members were moving in in an hour. That was half an hour ago.”

As the car rounded the corners and accelerated toward their destination, Kurt’s stomach began to tie in knots. His heart thumped against his sternum as thin beads of sweat trickled down his neck. 

“So, what are _we_ doing?”

Kurt was impressed by her multitasking skills as she was able to explain what was going on while narrowly escaping collisions and driving with expert precision. 

“We will be parked halfway down the block from your apartment. Elias Weber is believed to be pursuing your decoy within the next half hour. My instructions are to keep you close enough to see him being taken into custody but far enough away to be unnoticed by the suspect.”

The explanation was clear enough for him. He remained silent for the rest of the ride, white knuckled around the door handle as they swung around another corner. He assumed they must have alerted local law enforcement since no police cars had tried to pull them over. She pulled up to a familiar street and took a sharp right, driving right past the front door of the Bushwick apartment. Kurt noticed one familiar vehicle right out front and another parked across the street. As they drove past the alley, he could see another vehicle parked there, however it seemed more civilian and less conspicuous. Agent Gomez found a spot about a hundred feet away and pulled the car up next to the curb. As she cut the gas and pulled the key out of the ignition, she turned back toward the apartment, observing closely. 

Kurt mimicked her actions and paid close attention to the corner building with the sand colored brick. Nothing conspicuous seemed to be happening at that moment. A crackling sound came from the handheld radio in the cupholder of the console. Agent Gomez reached between the seats and turned up the volume for Kurt to hear. Before anyone else spoke, she gave him a short explanation,

“We have code names for each of the locations. Bushwick is Broadway, the Hilton is Hollywood and the Presidential is Pasadena.”

Kurt smirked and almost laughed at the agent’s puzzled expression,

“I like the alliteration.” 

When she raised her eyebrow and almost sneered, Kurt could sense the lack of humor in his comment. He looked down sheepishly and shrugged, “Well, _I_ thought it was funny,” he said under his breath. Agent Gomez ignored him and continued,

“We are team red, team blue is outside Hollywood and team violet is outside Pasadena. Right now we are waiting for the suspects to arrive. Hopefully they will show in the next ten minutes.”

After the abrupt halt to her words, the car remained silent. She continued her duties as an Agent, removing a pair of binoculars from the glove compartment and focusing them on the entrance to Bushwick. The radio crackled from the console,

_“Team blue checking in at Hollywood. Still quiet.”_

Kurt’s eyes were glued to the radio as he focused all of his energy on picking up as many words as he could. The time crept by like molasses, torturing his mind. 

_“Team blue again.Suspect spotted. Looks like it is Abel. He seems to have taken the bait.”_

Kurt’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t believe it. Were they actually about to apprehend these monsters? Was it going to be over soon? He rubbed his hands together nervously as his feet tapped against the floorboards. After about thirty seconds of this physical manifestation of his anxiety, Agent Gomez lowered the binoculars and stared at him until he stopped. When their glances met, he almost flinched at the sternness of her face. 

“Sorry.” He whispered bashfully. 

_“Team violet checking in at Pasadena. Suspects are moving in. Schneider and Hall are headed for the decoy room. Will update.”_

“Well, hello, sir,” Agent Gomez said playfully. When Kurt looked up inquisitively, she handed him the binoculars and pointed out the back window of the car. Kurt took the binoculars, turned around and peered through the glass. He almost dropped them when the face of his attacker came into focus. His eyes conveyed determination and indiscriminate rage. It was clear that he had a purpose, and he would not cease until it was fulfilled. Freeman’s voice came on the radio,

_“Team red, stand by. Suspect is moving in. Do not advance. Agents, take your places in the apartment. We only have one shot at this.”_

“How many agents are in the apartment?” Kurt asked. 

“We were able to sneak three of them in there before the decoy went in. I assume that, because he is walking in there with purpose, he either doesn’t know or doesn’t care.” 

Kurt continued to watch through the binoculars as the suspect disappeared into the apartment. Now it was time to just wait. He figured there was no use staring at nothing, so he returned the binoculars to Gomez and then sat in his own puddle of worry. The radio continued to talk from the cupholder,

_“Team blue. Suspect is in custody. Repeat, suspect is in custody.”_

Gomez shook her fist in triumph, but said nothing, in order to not bring too much attention to their vehicle. Kurt gave a loud sigh of relief and then proceeded to nibble on his fingertips. That was one. Three to go.

_Team violet. One in custody. One down. Requesting medevac.”_

Kurt fell against the back of his seat, running his hands through his hair. Not surprisingly, his face was beaming with satisfaction. Finally, some justice. Gomez seemed to notice his contentment,

“There's one for the good guys, huh?” 

Kurt responded with a nod. He leaned forward again and put his face in his hands. The tears of happiness were beginning to burn his eyes. They were almost there. Now it was just time to subdue the leader. 

The mood of the car changed dramatically. Gomez began cursing as her eyes were glued to her binoculars and focused out the back of the car. Kurt darted his attention to the apartment as he heard Sibaja-Mora’s voice over the radio this time,

_“Suspect on the run! Suspect on the run! Suspect is wounded, do not pursue! I repeat, DO NOT PURSUE! His wounds will slow him. We will apprehend him later.”_

Kurt could see everything happening in slow motion. Elias was running from the apartment toward their vehicle. Blood seeped from more than one gunshot wound, but it did not appear to stop him. He was running on pure adrenaline and hate. His proximity to the car was closing and Kurt began to panic. He was going to get away. No. No! This couldn't happen! They had come so close and he was now only a few feet from him! 

“Fuck, HUMMEL! GET THE FUCK BACK IN THE CAR!”

Gomez’s words fell on deaf ears as Kurt opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk, right in Elias’s path. He stopped with his arms spread open, tears falling from his eyes. Elias slowed when he saw him, incredulously. He stopped for a second, taking in Kurt’s face and making a sudden realization. His eyes looked back with anger and violent intentions. As he and Kurt continued to stare each other down, the expression on his face evolved into twisted satisfaction as he reached behind him and produced his Bowie knife. 

“I’m here, Elias. Take me if you want me. You just can’t have Blaine.” Kurt kept his arms spread and closed his eyes, waiting for the end. 

Everything happened so quickly, he couldn’t comprehend what was going on. Within seconds, Elias had grabbed him around the throat and shoved him up against the outside wall of the nearby apartment. The wind was knocked from him, but Kurt did his best to remain strong. His fingers did little to pry Elias’s hand from his throat as the Bowie knife was lifted in the air. Elias leaned in and whispered in his ear,

“Ich gewinne…” (1) his voice dripped with malice as he choked on his own blood. 

Kurt could see that several agents had gathered around them with their guns drawn. His ears were deaf to their shouts and screams, however. He was hyper focused on the animal before him, ready to extinguish his life. As the black spots crept into the corners of his vision, he saw the knife coming down toward him and he closed his eyes. 

The air erupted with loud popping sounds. Kurt lost count of how many he heard and was more aware of the splatter of liquid on his face. Elias’s grip released from his throat and the knife never came. He stood there against the brick wall, trembling and drenched in something warm, refusing to open his eyes. The sounds that came to him now were muffled. He felt a presence to his right as a gentle hand touched his arm. It recoiled when he flinched away from the touch. Then, one sound kept pounding against his brain like a drum. What was that?

“EARTH TO KURT!” Freeman’s voice broke through the veil, snapping Kurt out of his trance. He turned his attention to the angry agent next to him. Her eyes were looking daggers at him and he immediately turned his gaze to the ground, “No, Kurt, DON’T…!” she was too late. His eyes fell upon the carnage at his feet. Elias was laying in a pool of his own blood with three large bullet holes decorating his skull. His eyes stared into the void, never to move again. 

Kurt felt the bile collect in the back of his throat as he hurried away from the scene, supported himself against the brick wall and emptied the contents of his stomach. Freeman followed him, placing a reassuring hand on his back as he gagged and panted. The shock was overtaking him. He had to sit down and he lowered himself to the ground with his back against the rough surface of the brick. 

Agent Freeman looked down at him shivering like a mouse. She folded her arms in front of her and shook her head, the disappointment evident in her eyes. Kurt rolled his eyes at her and scoffed,

“Oh, go ahead and say it already.” 

“You are a stubborn little shit, Hummel,” there was no hesitation between Kurt’s comment and her response. He almost felt that one physically. There was only a moment of silence between them before she added, “but that was brave as hell.” 

The moment was interrupted by the shrill sound of an approaching ambulance. Kurt just hugged himself and continued to shiver, the shock still not abating. The ambulance stopped about ten yards away and, as the back doors opened, three EMTs exited with their medical bags. Freeman pointed two of them toward the apartment,

“We have two agents injured in the apartment. We need one of you here,” she pointed to Kurt crumpled against the wall. 

Kurt didn’t move and let the EMT look him over. After a quick look into his eyes with a pen light, she noticed him trembling and handed him a small bottle of water from her bag. An oximeter was attached to his index finger as the monitor read out an extremely fast heart rate. Kurt didn’t object as she handed him an oxygen mask and told him to just breathe normally until his heart rate came down. After being strangled by a madman, the oxygen tasted like mother’s milk to him. He took his time switching between the water and the mask as Sibaja-Mora approached. 

“Are you proud of yourself, Hummel?” she said condescendingly. Kurt rolled his eyes again like a spoiled teenager. She shook her head at him, “Uh, uh. You don’t get to be mad at us, Kurt. You could have been killed. Your stunt could have ended horrifically.” 

“It did, but for the person who deserved it. Your welcome for saving all of you from another stakeout and chase.” After giving his snarky response, he hid his face behind the oxygen mask. He could tell the two agents were seriously considering what he had said. Their concrete expressions only lasted so long before they dropped their arms at their sides and scoffed humorously. 

“You, sir, are an enigma. Take care of yourself. We will be in touch,” Sibaja-Mora was pulled away by other agents. Before she got too far, she turned back, "Hey, Hummel. Do you know what he said to you?" She pointed at the corpse on the ground now covered with a sheet. Kurt shrugged. "He said 'I win.'" They remained silent for a moment, holding one another's gaze. She gave Kurt a wave and disappeared down the sidewalk. Freeman sat down next to Kurt and they looked at each other with mutual understanding. Freeman put her hand on Kurt’s shoulder and smirked,

“As dumb as that move was, I’m proud of you, Hummel.”

Kurt held his fist out toward her and she promptly answered with a childish fist bump. Kurt giggled,

“We are so lame,” he quipped. Freeman nodded and folded her arms,

“Yes, we are.” 

They sat for about a half hour while Kurt’s heart rate came down and he regained composure. When the EMT gave him the green light, Freeman helped him to his feet and directed him toward her car. Kurt held back a moment and stopped in front of Elias's corpse. He looked down at him with determination and said,

"No. Love wins." He turned his back without another word and walked with Freeman to her car. 

Freeman drove him back to the hospital, stopping at the front entrance. As Kurt exited the car, she stopped him before he closed the door,

“Hummel,” she reached her hand out toward him, “It has been a pleasure.”

Touched by her sincerity, he shook her hand firmly, proud of what he had helped them accomplish. 

“Likewise,” he said. When the staring at each other became awkward, she shooed at him mockingly,

“Now get your butt in there and tell your boyfriend. We will talk soon.” 

Kurt closed the passenger door and watched the car pull away. He wrapped his arms around him tightly in anticipation of sharing the news with Blaine.

*******

The sun hung low in the late afternoon sky. Kurt was surprised to find Blaine right where he had left him. He appeared more fatigued and Kurt could only imagine the hell that Dr. Fisher had put him through earlier that afternoon. His eyes looked contently lost in the movement of the water. 

Burt could sense the change in his son, and he made sure Kurt saw it in his eyes. His inquisitive expression made Kurt chuckle lightly. The sound knocked Blaine out of his trance and brought a smile to his face as he saw his lover approaching,

“So? How did it go? What did they need you for, anyway?” The couple’s lips brushed together, Kurt lingering in order to taste Blaine’s skin for a while longer. They leaned into it just as one of them started to pull away. Blaine could sense new life in his boyfriend and was curious of its source. When their lips finally parted, Kurt took his place in front of Blaine’s wheelchair. Burt looked on curiously as he watched his son take Blaine’s hands and hold them tight. 

“Blaine..”

He could sense his boyfriend becoming uncomfortable with the anticipation,

“Kurt…?” he answered awkwardly. 

“They were caught.”

Blaine was confused. 

“What?” 

Kurt released Blaine’s hands and grabbed his fiance's face,

“The FBI has die Stärke in custody. And Elias…” he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before finishing his statement, “...Elias got himself killed.”

The three men sat in silence. Kurt watched as Blaine’s facial expression changed while he digested the information. First his eyes looked blankly back at him. Then, they moved to his lap, his brow knitted in disbelief. Finally, when he looked back up, Kurt could see tears glistening in his eyes. The change in his breathing rhythm told Kurt that he was about to break down in sobs. Before the emotions exploded from him, Kurt pulled him into an embrace. Blaine buried his face in the crook of Kurt’s neck as he let out a sound that was half sob and the other half laughter. 

Kurt held him in victory. He held him in solidarity. He held him knowing that he and his lover were now safe. His father joined in the loving embrace as the three of them could finally relax in the notion that they were no longer in danger. This time, love came out on top.


	14. Daydream Believer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been one month since the FBI apprehended the suspects. Blaine and Kurt are in a new home, with a surprising twist. Things are looking up, but it will take some time to get back to normal. Thankfully, they have each other and the love of friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a feel good chapter, everyone. Some happiness after all of the angst and sadness! WHEW! 
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this one and I found myself smiling a lot! Enjoy! 
> 
> Trigger warning:  
> Panic attack in this chapter! There is also a mention of a grounding exercise (which you may recognize if you suffer from panic attacks like I do). There are different versions of it, and I just used the one with which I am most familiar.

ONE MONTH LATER

Kurt and Blaine could barely comprehend everything that was happening. So many things changed on a weekly basis that they could barely keep up. Despite the fast pace of their changing environment, everything progressed positively. Whenever Blaine was feeling particularly overwhelmed, Kurt made sure to remind him that his convalescence was his number one priority. But Blaine, being the caring and helpful person that he was, often found himself mentally stressed and fatigued when he didn’t know every detail. Today, Kurt had an appointment with the Dean of NYADA. Blaine wasn’t even going and he was a nervous wreck. Kurt recalled having to lecture him like a child,

“Too bad. You don’t have to know about my class schedule, Blaine. It doesn’t affect you, so let it go.” 

The meeting with Dean Tibideaux normally would have put Kurt in a state of dread. But something about the last month and his experiences had allowed him to grow in his self advocacy. He walked into her office with his head held high, and not an ounce of insecurity. 

When he entered, she gave him her usual condescending glances, peeking up from the frames of her glasses with a raised eyebrow. Kurt took a seat across from her with his back straight and legs crossed. 

“I was beginning to wonder if we would ever see you again, Mr. Hummel. I was made aware by your professors that your performance in all of your classes has severely suffered in the last few weeks. Do you have an explanation for that?” She leaned back, comfortable in her position of power and tried to intimidate Kurt with her stare. He was surprised that she was so ill informed of current events. Then again, her entire world was NYADA and little else mattered to her. 

“I wish to have an extension on some of the most recent work in my classes due to unforeseen circumstances. I assume you have been up on the news?” 

She sat still, staring at him. Kurt took that as a signal to continue, “the Bushwick neighborhood, where my fiancé and I live has been victimized by international criminals.” 

A playful scoff sounded from her side of the desk. She was unimpressed at best. Kurt opened the front pouch of his shoulder bag, pulled out the newspaper of the Ridgewood and Bushwick area which had covered his and Blaine’s involvement with the FBI. When Tibideaux showed little to no change in demeanor, Kurt placed it on her desk in front of her. 

“Blaine and I were attacked by them last month.” 

At first she didn’t look like she believed him. But when she obliged by picking up the newspaper and scanning the story, her facial expression changed to surprisingly enlightened. With a heavy sigh, she folded the paper and placed it back on the desk, closer to Kurt. She shrugged,

“Alright, you have my attention.” 

“Blaine has put in a request to delay his first semester till January. It has been pending for the last two weeks and it is affecting his grades. He still can’t be in class, and will need until then to be ready to return.” 

Tibideaux held her hands in front of her, waving them back and forth in protest,

“There is a deadline for that, Mr. Hummel. It was the end of September and it is coming up on the last week of October. He knew the deadline and failed to answer it.”

Kurt pulled out his phone and pulled up an image. Leaning forward, he set the phone in front of her. Her demeanor changed dramatically from condescending to genuinely shocked. 

“It was somewhat difficult for him to answer when he was in that condition. And I couldn’t do anything because I need his permission to do his paperwork for him.”

Tibideaux held the phone and observed it pensively. Her hand looked like it was almost trembling. Before her was an image of Blaine in a hospital bed, covered in bandages and on a ventilator. She looked like she didn’t really know how to comprehend it.

“He was shot twice, Dean Tribideaux. He was in a medically induced coma for almost a week. How exactly is he supposed to contact you if he is not even conscious?” 

Kurt could tell by her silence that he had gained the higher ground in this debate. The uncomfortable shifting in her chair told him that the photo was effective. Several minutes passed as the silent awkwardness swallowed them. Finally, she handed back his phone, folded her arms and looked back at him with a fraction of humility. 

“Consider Blaine’s request granted. What about you, Mr. Hummel? What do you need?”

Kurt couldn’t believe he heard those words coming from her mouth. He knew this was the time to take advantage of her generosity while it was still being offered. 

“I would like your support in talking to my professors about helping me catch up. I want to keep going from where I left off and finish this semester. You have the power to do this for me.”

Dean Tibideaux nodded,

“True. I do have that power. But let me play the devil’s advocate. They will ask why you deserve it.” 

Kurt pointed at her, as if to agree. He reached into his shoulder bag again and handed her a letter signed by both Agents Freeman and Sibaja-Mora. In summation, it laid out the situation with the apprehension of the international criminals and how Kurt was a prime resource in the success of their apprehension. She skimmed it and, seeing the official FBI seal and the signatures of the agents at the bottom, was plenty convinced. She leaned forward and held her hand out. Kurt took it and shook firmly.

“Consider yourself reinstated and given an extension.” 

Kurt acknowledged her with a firm nod and stood from his chair. 

“Thank you for your time and understanding, Dean Tibideaux. Blaine and I both appreciate it.” He turned to the door and she called after him,

“Mr. Hummel,” he stopped and turned back while standing in the doorway, “whatever happened to you has changed you. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you experienced what you did. And...I’m proud of you.” 

He searched her face and saw sincerity. With an exchange of nods, Kurt was confident that they understood one another. 

*********

Kurt entered to the sound of laughter and lively conversation. He took in the image of their new domicile with pride and contentment. Not only was it larger and fancier than the previous, but the ominous cloud of nightmarish memories did not hang over its roof. 

Since Blaine’s release from the hospital, they had decided not to return to the Bushwick apartment for obvious reasons. That left them on the housing market without a home. Burt offered to help pay for a hotel room until they could find a place, but to their surprise the FBI stepped in and covered it. Something had been mentioned about Kurt being the reason they had apprehended international criminals. They hadn’t been at the hotel long when they received word from Blaine’s mother that she had purchased a new home on Staten Island. Kurt remembered the exchange vividly. He and Blaine were standing in the kitchenette of their hotel room with the phone on speaker on the table. 

“Wait, what?” Blaine didn’t believe what she had just said.

“Blainey, your father came through.”

That comment hadn’t clarified anything. He looked at Kurt, puzzled at the entire conversation. 

“What does that mean? You said he ran off and wanted nothing to do with us. Now he’s suddenly back?”

She giggled on the other end. Blaine responded with visual annoyance. 

“I divorced his ass, or I tried to, and he started to put up a fight. So I threatened to go public with the story about how he didn’t bother to come see his son after recovering from the injuries of a hate crime.”

Kurt and Blaine’s eyes nearly popped out of their skulls in bewilderment. She really did that?

“Wow, mom. I’m honestly impressed.” Blaine didn’t hate his father, but he wasn’t particularly close to him. He never really invested much time in Blaine and did little to support him after he came out. Even the protests from Cooper and Pam did little to sway his opinion. To Mr. Anderson, bonding time consisted of overly masculine activities that tried to “get the gay out” of his son. Blaine never really let it bother him. He just asked that his dad not expect any affection in return. The feeling seemed mutually understood.

“So, as soon as I threatened, his tail went right between his legs.You know how he is about his public image. He signed the papers and settled rather handsomely. I got half. Let’s just say it’s enough for us to live comfortably for a long while.” 

“To the tune of…?” Blaine inquired.

“A four bedroom, three bathroom house on Staten Island. Price tag eight hundred thousand. And there’s still enough left for a rainy day, don’t worry.” 

Blaine was caught off guard by that comment. His hand clutched his chest in disbelief as his eyes remained wide. 

“I’m happy for you, mom. You get to live near us” 

Her unabashed laughter confused both of the boys. They looked at each other, brows knitted. “What’s wrong with her?” Kurt mouthed. Blaine shrugged. 

“Blaine, you are adorable. I’m not just living near you. I want you two to come share the house with me. It’s all paid for. You two can start fresh. Sam can come too and Cooper will visit between acting jobs. What do you say?”

The stunned silence filled the hotel room. The pair covered their mouths in disbelief as the gratified tears welled up in their eyes. Blaine had to lean over the counter to regain his senses. 

“I’ll take your silence as a shocked ‘Yes’ then?” 

With his voice breaking, Blaine leaned into the phone,

“You mean we get to start over? As mother and son?”

“That’s right, honey.” 

“I love you.” Blaine couldn’t continue. He gestured to Kurt to finish the conversation. 

“So, when do we move in?” He said, half jokingly, half sincerely. 

“Oh, today. Get your butts to the storage place. The moving van will be waiting for you there in an hour.” After a stunned silence, they ended the call and bundled all of their things. Soon, an Uber had arrived and taken them to the storage facility where their furniture and larger belongings were kept. Within a week, they had settled into the new place. 

Another round of laughter brought him back to the present. He removed his coat and scarf and hung them on the coat rack just inside the door. Kurt walked around the corner from the entryway and was greeted by the smiling faces of Sam, Mercedes and Rachel seated at the large sectional couch next to the enormous picture window. The evening sun was disappearing behind the skyline of Manhattan, giving the apartment a cozy ambiance. A bottle of wine was open on the glass coffee table. Kurt almost had a conniption,

“Blaine Devon Anderson, you know you aren’t supposed to have alcohol!”

Blaine stood from the couch and approached his fiance. He found humor in his angry expression as he abated it with a warm embrace. 

“I know. There’s no rule against giving it to guests, though.” 

Kurt’s muscles relaxed and he returned the affection, ending the hug with an affectionate kiss. Rachel raised her glass,

“Don’t worry, Kurt, he’s behaving. He is just being a good host.” she winked at Blaine, who returned her comment with a thankful bow. Mercedes turned to Kurt,

“How was the meeting with the dean? Did she tear you a new one?” she snickered. Kurt made himself comfortable on the couch next to Blaine, taking his hand in his lap. He looked back matter-of-factly,

“Actually, she showed an enormous amount of empathy. I was really surprised. For a second I wondered if it was her.” 

Rachel looked at him in disbelief,

“Are we talking about the same Tibideaux?” she inquired. Kurt just responded with a slight nod and a look that suggested he wasn’t going to question the miracle. While they sat in silence for a moment, Blaine poured a fresh glass for Kurt and handed it to him. He proceeded to take his own small wine glass and hold it up. Kurt looked on incredulously and started to protest,

“I thought…”

“It’s grape juice for goodness sake. Chill,” he retorted defensively. 

Rachel, Mercedes, Sam and Kurt pressed their glasses against Blaine’s. After a light clinking of their toast, Blaine said,

“To surviving.” 

A collective “Hear hear” filled the living room and they proudly drank in honor of the ordeal that Kurt and Blaine had overcome. When they had returned to their spots on the couch, Mercedes and Rachel noticed that Sam was practically jumping with excitement. He held his arms out toward Blaine as if he wanted to bear hug the man. Blaine looked perplexed,

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked. 

“Tell them about your progress, Blaine! I mean, _I’M_ proud of you! Aren’t you proud of _yourself_?”

Rachel and Mercedes turned to Blaine cheerfully, hoping to hear the good news. The dark haired man rolled his eyes and looked down sheepishly. When he felt Kurt nudge him with his elbow, he snickered.

“Well, I don’t need my cane to walk anymore and I can get up and down the stairs without help…” 

Sam put his hands on his hips like a disappointed parent,

“Blaine, don’t sell yourself short.”

His embarrassment was only overtaken by his happiness as he continued,

“And I was able to sing an entire song almost at full volume yesterday.” 

Kurt sat up, surprised at what he heard.

“You didn’t tell me that,” he said quietly in Blaine’s ear. Rachel was confused,

“Didn’t you know, Kurt?” 

He shook his head and she just laughed. Sam explained the routine,

“While Kurt is at class, Blaine and I go to the exercise room down the hall there,” he indicated down a long, dark hallway past the kitchen, “and I do his PT with him. The therapist gave me the list of exercises he has to do and I supervise.” Mercedes looked at him proudly and grabbed his hand,

“That’s wonderful. I’m glad you are being so helpful, Sam.” she said. Recalling the time they had been dating brought back memories of frustration. Despite this, she was always amazed at how indiscriminately kind and protective he was of his friends. Blaine was in good hands. Kurt looked longingly at his boyfriend, showing his pride at his accomplishments. 

“Can I ask what song?” 

When everyone was suddenly staring at him, Blaine blushed.

“Blackbird.” When he saw Kurt’s smile fade, he became worried. In the chorus of cooing from his friends, Blaine looked at him and knew that the expression was not out of anger or disappointment, but extreme respect. When he felt Kurt squeeze his hand, it was all the recognition he needed. 

Rachel inquired further,

“What do the doctors say? Are they happy with how you’re doing?” 

Blaine shrugged,

“Yeah, they seem to be. I just have to be careful when I go out. Since I don’t have a spleen anymore, I am more susceptible to infection. Dr. Nyugen has me on prophylactic antibiotics and I have to wear a mask in public for a few more months as I get my strength back. Other than that it’s just washing my hands really well and putting all my energy into getting stronger. Don’t worry, I’ll be back on the stage before you know it.”

Sam raised his glass again,

“No doubt about it!” he exclaimed. They raised their glasses in solidarity and drank again. Kurt pulled Blaine closer to him. When he rested his head on his shoulder, Kurt turned and kissed the top of his head. He kneaded his fiance's hand lovingly, showing how proud he was at his progress. 

“So you are almost back to normal then, huh?” Mercedes said. Blaine gave her a so-so motion with his hand,

“I’m much better than I was, but I have a ways to go. I still get tired easily and I still have some weakness in my legs from time to time. It’s slow, but it is sure.”

Rachel set her glass down on the coffee table and stood from the couch. Her friends watched her walk over to Blaine and kneel down in front of him. She took his hands tightly in her own and kissed his knuckles. Mercedes walked up behind her and looked down lovingly at her friends. She took hold of Kurt’s hand. Sam approached from the side and put his hand on Blaine’s shoulder. Blaine knew what was coming and he could feel the tears burning his eyes. He looked at Rachel,

“We are so happy that you two are okay.” 

“You’ve got that right,” Sam agreed. 

“You both survived because you are so strong. And the world is a better place to have you in it.” 

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other. Now the tears were falling freely from both of their eyes. They chuckled and Kurt began to wipe them away,

“Dammit, Rachel. You’re not supposed to make us feel the feels yet!”

They shared in the laughter and then gathered into a group hug, being careful not to be too forceful with Blaine. 

The conversation ended when Kurt offered to give them a tour of the house. Mercedes and Rachel accepted happily as they all stood from the couch and followed the leader through the domicile. Blaine held back with Sam by his side. He walked with a slight limp, and moved slowly, but otherwise ambled without assistance. Kurt himself was surprised at how much square footage the house contained and found himself forgetting about all the rooms they had. The two level house came complete with an open concept main floor where Pam’s bedroom was at the end of the hall. Across from her, they had converted one of the four bedrooms into an exercise area complete with free weights, a treadmill and a weight machine. Sam was intimately familiar, and even tried to get Rachel and Mercedes to give the machines a try. They turned him down gracefully. 

By the time they reached the top floor and walked into Kurt and Blaine’s spacious master bedroom, Blaine was already showing signs of fatigue. Sam pulled out the chair of the desk against the wall and ordered him to take a seat. 

“Yes, sir,” he soluted mockingly at his friend. Despite his embarrassment, he was grateful to take respite in the chair. The conversation moved to a more serious subject,

“So, sorry to bring it up, but have you heard anything from the FBI about the...suspects?” Mercedes asked, being careful of her words. Kurt didn’t hesitate in his response and nodded. 

“Yes. The trial is in March.” he trailed off, his eyes looking at the floor. Rachel took his hand and moved closer to him. Mercedes turned to Blaine and saw worry in his expression. She put her hands up defensively,

“I’m sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I hope I didn’t make you relive anything.” Her tone was sincere. Blaine shrugged,

“No, you didn’t. It’s just they asked us to testify.”

Silence again. Sam just got down on his haunches next to his friend and waited patiently. He hadn't heard about the correspondence with the FBI and was equally curious. Blaine and Kurt’s faces met as they contemplated how much they wanted to explain. Rachel spoke first,

“You’re not sure you’ll want to…” she finished the explanation for them. Their friends did not look at them with pity or judgement. Their faces only displayed empathy. 

“It’s okay, guys. It’s your decision. You have a few months to decide,” Sam reassured them. Blaine felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up into Mercedes’ eyes,

“Don’t feel bad if you decide you can’t. That goes for both of you, okay?” 

After a short pause, Sam tried to lift the mood of the room,

“Awwww, come on! Another group hug, guys!” 

Following another shared laugh, they moved into a tight group hug. They remained there for several minutes, saying nothing. They didn’t have to. Kurt and Blaine knew they were safe and loved. They knew it because of the friends that were in their presence. 

Sam broke from the embrace first and put his hand in the middle. His face looked like that of a mischievous teenager.

“You can’t be serious.” Mercedes said. 

“Come on, you know you want to!”

A couple of them scoffed, and one of them rolled her eyes as they all put their hands in the middle. At the count of three, they all shouted,

“A M A Z I N G!!!” Their hands flew into the air. Despite the momentary embarrassment, the moment made them all feel better. They shared in the hilarity as they all realized how fortunate they were to be in one another’s company. 

  
  


********

Someone was screaming in Kurt’s ear. His dreams had been blessed with images of happiness when the sudden burst of sound brought him to reality. For a moment, he expected to have to reach over to his bedside table to silence his alarm, but he was wrong. It wasn’t the noise coming from his phone. The sound came from beside him. 

As his awareness came back to him in a rush, he turned to his right and saw his fiance in a tangle of sheets, his hands digging into his hair violently. Breaths came in short gasps as exhalations came out in horrified sobs. He curled up into a fetal position and began to rock back and forth on his side. A blanket of sweat coated his hair and neck. The pillowcase and sheets under him were damp with his perspiration. 

“NO! NOOO! GET AWAY!!” his voice wasn’t loud, but it was forceful. 

Kurt was cautious as he neared Blaine. He gradually increased the pressure on his lover’s shoulder as he laid his hand on him. Contrary to previous times, he didn’t recoil. 

Kurt heard the door creak open quietly from behind. He turned to see Sam standing in the small opening he had made. He gave Kurt a look of concern and was answered with a nod and a wave of his hand. He knew that it meant Kurt had the situation under control and took his leave. 

“Blaine, I’m here. Come back to me, okay?” He nestled in with his chest against Blaine’s back and slowly wrapped himself around him in a comforting embrace. Blaine continued to rock and pull at his hair. 

“Kurt, he’s here. He’s coming to kill me. I can’t hide from him. I need to get out of here.” 

Kurt continued to hold him and then began to hum quietly. He moved his hands up and down Blaine’s arms, trying to work the tension out of his muscles as he continued to panic. When several minutes of this did nothing to abate the attack, he moved into a grounding exercise,

“It’s okay Blaine. You are home and you are safe. Open your eyes and tell me five things you can see.” 

After a moment’s hesitation, Blaine continued to pull at his hair as the sobs exited his lips once again. Kurt tried one more time,

“Five things, Blaine. Come on. You can do it.” 

He couldn’t see it, but Blaine slowly opened his eyes and searched his surroundings,

“Mirror, lamp, phone, chair, my hands,” with each word, his breathing slowed down. 

“Great job, Blaine. Now four things you can hear.” 

Blaine concentrated and closed his eyes this time,

“I hear your breathing, the rustling of the sheets, the buzzing of the electricity and the air from the vent.” Kurt caressed him even closer and interlaced their fingers. There were three more exercises to go. 

“You’re doing superbly. Now tell me three things you can feel.” He could feel Blaine move in closer to his chest. His breathing was almost back to normal,

“I feel your hand in mine, I can feel your warmth behind me, and I feel the pillow against my face.” 

Kurt pressed his lips against the back of Blaine’s neck. He didn’t care about the sweat or the taste of the salt on his mouth. All he wanted was to help him. 

“Alright, good. Tell me two things you can smell.” 

Blaine took in a deep breath through his nostrils,

“I smell your lavender air freshener, and your moisturizer on your hands,” he said, as he brought Kurt’s fingers to his nose and breathed him in. Kurt smiled from behind him,

“One more, Blaine. One thing you can taste.” 

To his surprise, Blaine started shifting his position. Kurt let him go and watched him turn to his other side in order to face him. He leaned in and placed his lips over Kurt’s. A smile formed on his mouth as he backed away slightly,

“I taste you.” he said lovingly.

“You are home.” Kurt said.

“I am home,” Blaine repeated.

“You are safe.” Kurt said.

“I am safe,” Blaine repeated.

Kurt could tell that the exercise had been successful. Blaine no longer had his fingers knotted in his hair and his breathing had returned to normal. As he laid there in front of him, he appeared close to falling asleep again. Kurt stroked his cheek with the back of his hand and combed his fingers through Blaine’s messy curls. 

Blaine lifted his eyelids and waited until his lover was looking directly into his eyes. The tender moment became emotional quickly. The tears that had built up in the attack started to pour out.

“When are these damned attacks going to go away?” 

Kurt just looked back at him empathetically, continuing to stroke his cheek. 

“They will. Remember what the psychiatrist said. You will get through this, you just have to be…”

“Patient, I know.” Blaine said, with some disappointment in his voice. 

Kurt’s hand wandered from Blaine’s curls to his face, then to his neck. He could feel the muscles in his boyfriend’s body begin to relax and he was thankful for it. He continued moving his hand down to Blaine’s shoulder and then allowed it to stop on his chest. He gently pulled on the fabric of his sleeveless t-shirt where the faded scar of the burn remained. Kurt stroked it, as if to inspect how it was healing. Thanks to an amazing topical ointment from a dermatologist, Kurt and Blaine had been able to treat their burns to the point of them being barely discernible. The rectangle and hateful word were only slightly more red than the surrounding skin. Kurt believed that once they were both able to rid themselves of this terrible reminder, they would be able to move on with grace. Blaine knew what he was doing, but remained still and took solace in his lover’s touch. 

By the time Kurt had returned his hand to Blaine’s cheek, he noticed he had fallen asleep. While the panic attacks were horrific to witness, he was grateful he was able to help his boyfriend come out of them safely. After a few minutes, his eyelids were getting heavy. The last image he remembered seeing was a slight smile on Blaine’s face as he was lost to slumber.


	15. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaine has a quiet moment of reflection.

The sound of the pen against paper was soothing to him. Sitting alone on the bed, Blaine reflected on the last few months as his hand moved swiftly over the page of his journal. 

_ Wednesday, March 19th _

_ Well, the trial is in a few hours. I knew this day was going to come. I’m still not sure I am ready for this. I have vacillated for almost six months about whether or not to go. Kurt has been on the fence as well. But then we reminded each other of something. We reminded each other of a conversation we had back in September about standing up for what’s right. So long as no one stands up to hate, it will continue to thrive. We have to show these people that they will not triumph and that they cannot torment the innocent. Perhaps if enough of us stand up to them, it will send a message to the rest of those haters. Will it eliminate it completely? Who knows? But, it’s worth it to try.  _

_ To be completely honest, I don’t know if I will be able to face them. While the worst of them is no longer on this earth, his followers have done their fair share of unthinkable things. Will Kurt and I be able to look at them when we take the witness stand? Will we become vulnerable and crumble in front of them? As I write this, I think I can say maybe. But we will come out stronger. We already have. If there’s one thing these last few months have taught me it’s that, together, Kurt and I can survive almost anything. Neither of us will ever be as frightened as we were that night. And if facing them once more means putting them where they can never hurt anyone again, I think we are willing to endure the pain. Not just for us, but for all of the people they have stepped on over the years. We owe it to them.  _

_ It is still mind boggling how people can seed so much blind hate. Is it fear? Is it superiority? Is it arrogance? Yes, probably all of those. I just know that it is taught. These ideas have to be squashed before they grow into a horrible disease. Hopefully, over time, more of us can help stop the spread. _

_ I don’t hate these men. I hate the ideas that made them. I can hope their time in prison brings them moments of self-reflection. While it’s too late for them to change it for themselves, maybe stopping them will stop the seed from being passed to the next person. We can only push on and be soldiers for peace.  _

_ In conclusion, all I know for certain after coming out of this… _

  
  


_...love always wins.  _

_THE END_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is, folks! I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks so much to everyone who followed and to those who left such lovely comments. I consider this a success as my first ever published fanfiction, thanks to all the support!


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